THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Lundy's  Lane 

and  Other  Poems 


By 

Duncan  Campbell  Scott 

Author  of  "The  Magic  House,"  '*In  the  Village 
of  Viger,"  etc.,  etc. 


New  York 
George  H.  Doran  Company 


Copyright,  1916, 
By  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


9199.3 

To  the  Memory  of  My  Daughter  . 

ELIZABETH  DUNCAN  SCOTT  ^^^^III 

I 895-1 907 


CONTENTS 


CONTENTS 

Page 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE  .       .       .       .  13 

VIA  BOREALIS  — 

Spring  on  Mattagami 25 

An  Impromptu 3^ 

The  Half-Breed  Girl      ......  38 

Night  Burial  in  the  Forest     .      ...  41 

Dream  Voyageurs 44 

Song:  Creep  into  My  Heart     ....  45 

Ecstasy 46 

LYRICS,  SONGS  AND  SONNETS  — 

Meditation  at  Perugia 49 

At  William   MacLennan's  Grave.     Near 

Florence 53 

The  Wood-Spring  to  the  Poet     ...  56 

The  November  Pansy 63 

The  Height  of  Land 68 

New  Year's  Night,  1916 77 

vii 


CONTENTS 


Page 

Fragment  of  an  Ode  to  Canada     ...  79 

Fantasia 84 

The  Lover  to  His  Lass 86 

The  Ghost's  Story 90 

Night 92 

The  Apparition 94 

At  Sea 96 

Madonna  with  Two  Angels     ....  98 

Mid-August 100 

Mist  and  Frost 105 

The  Beggar  and  the  Angel     .      .      .      .110 

Improvisation  on  an  Old  Song     .      .      .117 

O  Turn  Once  More 121 

At  the  Gill-Nets 124 

A  Love  Song 126 

Three  Songs: 

I     Where  love  is  life 128 

II     Nothing  came  here  but  sunlight  .  129 

III     I  have  songs  of  dancing  pleasure  .  129 

The  Sailor's  Sweetheart 131 

Feuilles  d'Automne 133 

•  «  • 

vui 


CONTENTS 


To  the  Heroic  Soul:  Page 

I     Nurture  thyself,  O  Soul!     .      .      .135 

II    Be  strong,  O  Warring  Soul!     .      .136 

Retrospect 138 

Frost  Magic: 

I     Now  in  the  moonrise,  from  a  wintry 

sky 139 

II     With  these  alone  he  draws  in  magic 

lines 140 

In  Snow-Time 142 

To  a  Canadian  Lad  Killed  in  the  War     .  143 

THE  CLOSED  DOOR  — 

By  a  Child's  Bed 147 

Elizabeth  Speaks 149 

A  Legend  of  Christ's  Nativity     .      .      .  i54 

Willow-Pipes 163 

Angel 164 

Christmas  Folk-Song 165 

From  Beyond 166 

The  Leaf 167 

A  Mystery  Play 168 

LINES  IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS       .  179 

IX 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 

Rufus  Gale  speaks — 1852 

'ES,—  in  the  Lincoln  Militia,—  in  the  war  of 

eighteen-twelve ; 
Many's  the  day  I've  had  since  then  to  dig 

and  delve  — 
But  those  are  the  years  I  remember  as  the 

brightest  years  of  all, 
When  we  left  the  plow  in  the  furrow  to  fol- 
low the  bugle's  call. 
Why,  even  our  son  Abner  wanted  to  fight 

with  the  men! 
"  Don't   you    go,   d'ye   hear,   sir !  " —  I   was 

angry  with  him  then. 
"  Stay  with  your  mother !  "  I  said,  and  he 

looked  so  old  and  grim  — 
He  was  just  sixteen  that  April  —  I  couldn't 

believe  it  was  him; 
But   I   didn't   think  —  I   was  off  —  and   we 

met  the  foe  again, 

[13] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE  (contd.) 

Five  thousand  strong  and  ready,  at  the  hill 

by  Lundy's  Lane. 
There  as  the  night  came  on  we  fought  them 

from  six  to  nine, 
Whenever   they    broke    our   line   we    broke 

their  line. 
They  took  our  guns  and  we  won  them  again, 

and  around  the  levels 
Where  the  hill  sloped  up  —  with  the  Eighty- 
ninth, —  we  fought  like  devils 
Around  the  flag ;  —  and  on  they  came  and 

we  drove  them  back, 
Until   with   its   very   fierceness   the    fight 

grew  slack. 


I 


T  was  then  about  nine  and  dark  as  a  miser's 

pocket. 
When  up  came  Hercules  Scott's  brigade  swift 

as  a  rocket. 
And  charged, —  and  the  flashes  sprang  in  the 

dark  like  a  lion's  eyes ; 
The    night    was    full    of    fire  —  groans,    and 

cheers,  and  cries; 

[14] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE  (contd.) 

Then  through  the  sound  and  the  fury  another 

sound  broke  in  — 
The  roar  of  a  great  old  duck-gun  shattered  the 

rest  of  the  din; 
It  took  two  minutes  to  charge  it  and  another 

to  set  it  free. 
Every  time  I  heard  it  an  angel  spoke  to  me ; 
Yes,  the  minute  I  heard  it  I  felt  the  strangest 

tide 
Flow  in  my  veins  like  lightning,  as  if,  there, 

by  my  side, 
Was  the  very  spirit  of  Valor.     But  'twas  dark 

—  you  couldn't  see  — 
And  the  one  who  was  firing  the  duck-gun  fell 

against  me 
And  slid  down  to  the  clover,  and  lay  there 

still; 
Something    went    through    me  —  piercing  — 

with  a  strange,  swift  thrill; 
The  noise  fell  away  into  silence,  and  I  heard 

as  clear  as  thunder 
The  long,  slow  roar  of  Niagara:     O  the  won- 
der 

[15] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE  (contd.) 

Of  that  deep  sound.    But  again  the  battle 

broke 
And  the  foe,  driven  before  us  desperately  — 

stroke  upon  stroke, 
Left  the  field  to  his  master,  and  sullenly  down 

the  road 
Sounded  the  boom  of  his  guns,  trailing  the 

heavy  load 
Of  his  wounded  men  and  his  shattered  flags, 

sullen  and  slow, 
Setting  fire  in  his  rage  to  Bridgewater  mills, 

and  the  glow 
Flared  in  the  distant  forest.     We  rested  as  we 

could, 
And  for  a  while  I  slept  in  the  dark  of  a  maple 

wood: 
But  when  the  clouds  in  the  east  were  red  all 

over, 
I  came  back  there  to  the  place  we  made  the 

stand  in  the  clover; 
For  my  heart  was  heavy  then  with  a  strange, 

deep  pain, 

[i6] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE  (contd.) 

As  I  thought  of  the  glorious  fight,  and  again 

and  again 
I  remembered  the  valiant  spirit  and  the  pierc- 
ing thrill; 
But  I  knew  it  all  when  I  reached  the  top  of 

the  hill, — 
For  there,  there  with  the  blood  on  his  dear, 

brave  head, 
There  on  the  hill  in  the  clover  lay  our  Abner 

—  dead !  — 
No  —  thank  you  —  no,  I  don't  need  it ;  I'm 

solid  as  granite  rock. 
But  every  time  that  I  tell  it  I  feel  the  old,  cold 

shock, 
I'm  eighty-one   my  next  birthday  —  do  you 

breed  such  fellows  now? 
There  he  lay  with  the  dawn  cooling  his  broad 

fair  brow. 
That  was  no  dawn  for  him ;  and  there  was  the 

old  duck-gun 
That  many  and  many's  the  time, —  just  for  the 

fun, 

[17] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE  (contd.) 

We  together,  alone,  would  take  to  the  hickory 

rise, 
And  bring  home  more  wild  pigeons  than  ever 

you  saw  with  your  eyes. 
Up  with  Hercules  Scott's  brigade,  just  as  it 

came  on  night  — 
He  was  the  angel  beside  me  in  the  thickest  of 

the  fight  — 
Wrote  a  note  to  his  mother  —  He  said,  "  I've 

got  to  go ; 
Mother  what  would  home  be  under  the  heel 

of  the  foe!" 
Oh !  she  never  slept  a  wink,  she  would  rise  and 

walk  the  floor; 
She'd  say  this  over  and  over,  "  I  knew  it  all 

before!" 
I'd  try  to  speak  of  the  glory  to  give  her  a  little 

joy. 
"  What  is  the  glory  to  me  when  I  want  my 

boy,  my  boy !  " 
She'd  say,  and  she'd  wring  her  hands ;  her  hair 

grew  white  as  snow  — 

[i8] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE  (contd.) 

And  I'd  argue  with  her  up  and  down,  to  and 

fro, 
Of  how  she  had  mothered  a  hero,  and  his  was 

a  glorious  fate, 
Better  than  years  of  grubbing  to  gather  an 

estate. 
Sometimes  I'd  put  it  this  way:     "  If  God  was 

to  say  to  me  now 
*  Take  him  back  as  he  once  was  helping  you 

with  the  plow,' 
I'd  say,  'No,  God,  thank  You  kindly;  'twas 

You  that  he  obeyed ; 
You  told  him  to  fight  and  he  fought,  and  he 

wasn't  afraid; 
You  wanted  to  prove  him  in  battle,  You  sent 

him  to  Lundy's  Lane, 
'Tis  well !  "     But  she  only  would  answer  over 

and  over  again, 
"  Give  me  back  my  Abner  —  give  me  back  my 

son!" 
It  was  so  all  through  the  winter  until  the 

spring  had  begun, 

[19] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE  (contd.) 

And  the  crocus  was  up  in  the  dooryard,  and 

the  drift  by  the  fence  was  thinned, 
And  the  sap  drip-dropped  from  the  branches 

wounded  by  the  wind, 
And  the  whole  earth  smelled  like  a  flower, — 

then  she  came  to  me  one  night  — 
"  Rufus !  "  she  said,  with  a  sob  in  her  throat, — 

"  Rufus,  you're  right." 
I  hadn't  cried  till  then,  not  a  tear  —  but  then 

I  was  torn  in  two  — 
There,  it's  all  right  —  my  eyes  don't  see  as 

they  used  to  do ! 

r>  UT  O  the  joy  of  that  battle  —  it  was  worth 

the  whole  of  life. 
You  felt  immortal  in  action  with  the  rapture 

of  the  strife, 
There  in  the   dark  by  the  river,  with  the 

flashes  of  fire  before, 
Running  and   crashing   along,  there   in  the 

dark,  and  the  roar 
Of  the  guns,  and  the  shrilling  cheers,  and  the 

knowledge  that  filled  your  heart 

[20] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE  (contd.) 

That  there  was  a  victory  making  and  you 

must  do  your  part, 
But  —  there's  his  grave  in  the  orchard  where 

the  headstone  glimmers  white: 
We  could  see  it,  we  thought,  from  our  win- 
dow even  on  the  darkest  night; 
It  is  set  there  for  a  sign  that  what  one  lad 

could  do 
Would  be  done  by  a  hundred  hundred  lads 

whose  hearts  were  stout  and  true. 
And  when  in  the  time  of  trial  you  hear  the 

recreant  say, 
Shooting  his  coward  lips  at  us,  "  You  shall 

have  had  your  day: 
For  all  your  state  and  glory  shall  pass  like  a 

cloudy  wrack. 
And  here  some  other  flag  shall  fly  where  flew 

the  Union  Jack," — 
Why  tell  him  a  hundred  thousand  men  would 

spring  from  these  sleepy  farms. 
To  tie  that  flag  in  its  ancient  place  with  the 

sinews  of  their  arms ; 

[21] 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE 

THE  BATTLE  OF  LUNDY'S  LANE  (contd.) 

And  if  they  doubt  you  and  put  you  to  scorn, 

why  you  can  make  it  plain, 
With  the  tale  of  the  gallant  Lincoln  men  and 

the  fight  at  Lundy's  Lane. 

1908. 


[22] 


VIA  BOREALIS 


TO 

Pelham  Edgar 


SPRING    ON     MATTAGAMI 


SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI 

T?AR  in  the  east  the  rain-clouds  sweep  and 
harry, 
Down  the  long  haggard  hills,  formless  and 
low, 
Far   in   the   west   the    shell-tints   meet   and 
marry. 
Piled   gray   and   tender  blue   and   roseate 
snow; 
East  —  like  a  fiend,  the  bolt-breasted,  stream- 
ing 
Storm  strikes  the  world  with  lightning  and 
with  hail; 
West  —  like  the  thought  of  a  seraph  that  is 
dreaming, 
Venus  leads  the  young  moon  down  the  vale. 

npH ROUGH   the   lake   furrow  between   the 
gloom  and  bright'ning 
Firm  runs  our  long  canoe  with  a  whistling 
rush, 

[25] 


VIA     BOREALIS 


SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI  (continued) 

While  Potan  the  wise  and  the  cunning  Silver 
Lightning 
Break  with  their  slender  blades  the  long 
clear  hush ; 
Soon  shall  I  pitch  my  tent  amid  the  birches, 
Wise  Potan  shall  gather  boughs  of  balsam 
fir, 
While  for  bark  and  dry  wood  Silver  Light- 
ning searches; 
Soon  the  smoke  shall  hang  and  lapse  in  the 
moist  air. 

COON  shall  I  sleep  —  if  I  may  not  remember 
One  who  lives  far  away  where  the  storm- 
cloud  went; 
May  it  part  and  starshine  bum  in  many  a 
quiet  ember, 
Over  her  towered  city  crowned  with  large 
content ; 
Dear   God,   let   me   sleep,   here   where   deep 
peace  is. 
Let  me  own  a  dreamless  sleep  once  for  all 
the  years, 

[26] 


SPRING     ON     MATTAGAMI 

SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI  (continued) 

Let  me  know  a  quiet  mind  and  what  heart 
ease  is, 
Lost  to  light  and  life  and  hope,  to  longing 
and  to  tears. 


TTEREim 
^^     Yet  I 


the  solitude  less  her  memory  presses, 
see  her  lingering  where  the  birches 
shine. 
All  the  dark  cedars  are  sleep-laden  like  her 
tresses, 
The  gold-moted  wood-pools  pellucid  as  her 
eyen ; 
Memories  and  ghost-forms  of  the  days  de- 
parted 
People  all  the  forest  lone  in  the  dead  of 
night ; 
While  Potan  and  Silver  Lightning  sleep,  the 
happy-hearted. 
Troop  they  from  their  fastnesses  upon  my 
sight. . 


[27] 


VIA     BOREALIS 


SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI  (continued) 

/^NCE  when  the  tide  came  straining  from  the 
^^         Lido, 

In  a  sea  of  flame  our  gondola  flickered  like 
a  sword, 
Venice  lay  abroad  builded  like  beauty's  credo, 
Smouldering  like  a  gorget  on  the  breast  of 
the  Lord: 
Did  she  mourn  for  fame  foredoomed  or  pas- 
sion shattered 
That  with  a  sudden  impulse  she  gathered 
at  my  side  ? 
But  when  I  spoke  the  ancient  fates  were  flat- 
tered, 
Chill  there  crept  between  us  the  imper- 
ceptible tide. 


/^NCE  I  well  remember  in  her  twilight  gar- 
^         den. 

She  pulled  a  half-blown  rose,  I  thought  it 
meant  for  me. 
But  poising  in  the  act,  and  with  half  a  sigh  for 
pardon, 

[28] 


SPRING    ON     MATTAGAMI 


SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI  (continued) 

She  hid  it  in  her  bosom  where  none  may 
dare  to  see: 
Had  she  a  subtle  meaning?  —  would  to  God 
I  knew  it, 

Where'er  I  am  I  always  feel  the  rose  leaves 
nestling  there, 
If  I  might  know  her  mind  and  the  thought 
which  then  flashed  through  it, 

My  soul  might  look  to  heaven  not  commis- 
sioned to  despair. 


'THROUGH  she  denied  at  parting  the  gift  that 
I  besought  her. 
Just  a  bit  of  ribbon  or  a  strand  of  her  hair ; 
Though  she  would  not  keep  the  token  that  I 
brought  her, 
Proud    she    stood    and    calm    and    mar- 
vellously fair ; 
Yet   I   saw  her  spirit  —  truth   cannot   dis- 
semble — 
Saw  her  pure  as  gold,  staunch  and  keen 
and  brave, 

[29] 


VIA     BOREALIS 


SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI  (continued) 

For  she  knows  my  worth  and  her  heart  was 
all  atremble, 
Lest  her  will  should  weaken  and  make  her 
heart  a  slave. 


TF  she  could  be  here  where  all  the  world  is 
eager 
For  dear  love  with  the  primal  Eden  sway, 
Where  the  blood  is  fire  and  no  pulse  is  thin 
or  meagre, 
All  the  heart  of  all  the  world  beats  one  way ! 
There    is   the    land    of   fraud    and    fame    and 
fashion, 
Joy  is  but  a  gaud  and  withers  in  an  hour. 
Here  is  the  land  of  quintessential  passion, 
Where  in  a  wild  throb  Spring  wells  up  with 
power. 

CHE  would  hear  the  partridge  drumming  in 
the  distance, 
Rolling  out  his  mimic  thunder  in  the  sultry 
noons ; 

[30] 


SPRING     ON     MATTAGAMI 


SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI  (continued) 

Hear  beyond  the  silver  reach  in  ringing  wild 
persistence 
Reel  remote  the  ululating  laughter  of  the 
loons ; 
See    the    shy    moose    fawn    nestling    by    its 
mother, 
In   a   cool   marsh   pool   where   the   sedges 
meet; 
Rest  by  a  moss-mound  where  the  twin-flowers 
smother 
With  a  drowse  of  orient  perfume  drenched 
in  light  and  heat: 

QHE    would    see    the    dawn    rise    behind    the 
smoky  mountain, 
In  a  jet  of  colour  curving  up  to  break. 
While  like  spray  from  the  iridescent  fountain. 
Opal  fires  weave  over  all  the  oval  of  the 
lake: 
She  would  see  like  fireflies  the  stars  alight  and 
spangle 
All  the  heaven  meadows  thick  with  grow- 
ing dusk, 

[31] 


VIA     BOREALIS 


SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI  (continued) 

Feel  the  gipsy  airs  that  gather  up  and  tangle 
The  woodsy  odours  in  a  maze  of  myrrh  and 
musk: 


'TpHERE  in  the  forest  all  the  birds  are  nesting, 
Tells  the  hermit  thrush  the  song  he  cannot 
tell, 
While  the  white-throat  sparrow  never  rest- 
ing. 
Even  in  the  deepest  night  rings  his  crystal 
bell: 
O,  she  would  love  me  then  with  a  wild  ela- 
tion, 
Then  she  must  love  me  and  leave  her 
lonely  state. 
Give  me  love  yet  keep  her  soul's  imperial 
reservation, 
Large  as  her  deep  nature  and  fathomless 
as  fate: 


[32] 


SPRING    ON     MATTAGAMI 

SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI  (continued) 

^  I  "'HEN,  if  she  would  lie  beside  me  in  the  even, 
On  my  deep  couch  heaped  of  balsam  fir, 
Fragrant    with    sleep    as    nothing    under 
heaven. 
Let  the  past  and  future  mingle  in  one  blur ; 
While  all  the  stars  were  watchful  and  there- 
under 
Earth  breathed  not  but  took  their  silent 
light. 
All  life  withdrew  and  wrapt  in  a  wild  wonder 
Peace  fell  tranquil  on  the  odorous  night : 

CHE  would  let  me  steal, —  not  consenting  or 
denying  — 
One  strong  arm  beneath  her  dusky  hair, 
She  would  let  me  bare,  not  resisting  or  com- 
plying, 
One  sweet  breast  so  sweet  and  firm  and 
fair; 
Then  with  the  quick  sob  of  passion's  shy  en- 
deavour, 
She  would  gather  close  and  shudder  and 
swoon  away, 

[33] 


VIA     BOREALIS 


SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI  (continued) 

She  would  be  mine  for  ever  and  for  ever, 
Mine  for  all  time  and  beyond  the  judgment 
day. 


T  T'AIN   is  the   dream,   and   deep   with   all   de- 
rision — 
Fate  is  stem  and  hard  —  fair  and  false  and 
vain  — 
But  what  would  life  be  worth  without  the 
vision, 
Dark  with  sordid  passion,  pale  with  wring- 
ing pain? 
What  I  dream  is  mine,  mine  beyond  all  cavil, 
Pure  and  fair  and  sweet,  and  mine  for  ever- 
more, 
And  when  I  will  my  life  I  may  unravel. 
And  find  my  passion  dream  deep  at  the  red 
core. 


T  7'ENUS  sinks  first  lost  in  ruby  splendour, 

Stars  like  wood-daffodils  grow  golden  in 
the  night, 

[34] 


SPRING     ON     MATTAGAMI 


SPRING  ON  MATTAGAMI  (continued) 

Far,  far  above,  in  a  space  entranced  and  ten- 
der, 
Floats  the  growing  moon  pale  with  virgin 
light. 
Vaster  than  the  world  or  life  or  death  my 
trust  is 
Based   in   the   unseen   and   towering   far 
above ; 
Hold  me,  O  Law,  that  deeper  lies  than  Jus- 
tice, 
Guide  me,  O  Light,  that  stronger  bums 
than  Love. 


[35] 


VIA     BOREALIS 


H 


B 


AN  IMPROMPTU 

ERE  in  the  pungent  gloom 

Where  the  tamarac  roses  glow 
And  the  balsam  bums  its  perfume, 
A  vireo  turns  his  slow- 
Cadence,  as  if  he  gloated 
Over  the  last  phrase  he  floated ; 
Each  one  he  moulds  and  mellows 
Matching  it  with  its  fellows: 
So  have  you  noted 
How  the  oboe  croons, 
The  canary-throated, 
In  the  gloom  of  the  violoncellos 
And  bassoons. 

UT  afar  in  the  thickset  forest 

I  hear  a  sound  go  free, 
Crashing  the  stately  neighbours 
The  pine  and  the  cedar  tree. 
Horns  and  harps  and  tabors, 

[36] 


AN     IMPROMPTU 


AN  IMPROMPTU  (continued) 

Drumming  and  harping  and  homing 
In  savage  minstrelsy  — 
It  wakes  in  my  soul  a  warning 
Of  the  wind  of  destiny. 

1\/r Y  life  is  soaring  and  swinging 
In  triple  walls  of  quiet, 
In  my  heart  there  is  rippling  and  ringing 
A  song  with  melodious  riot, 
When  a  fateful  thing  comes  nigh  it 
A  hush  falls,  and  then 
I  hear  in  the  thickset  world 
The  wind  of  destiny  hurled 
On  the  lives  of  men. 


[37] 


VIA     BOREALIS 


THE  HALF-BREED  GIRL 

'  HE  is  free  of  the  trap  and  the  paddle, 
The  portage  and  the  trail, 

But  something  behind  her  savage  life 
Shines  like  a  fragile  veil. 


H 


O 


O 


ER  dreams  are  undiscovered. 
Shadows  trouble  her  breast. 

When  the  time  for  resting  cometh 
Then  least  is  she  at  rest. 

FT  in  the  moms  of  winter. 

When  she  visits  the  rabbit  snares, 

An  appearance  floats  in  the  crystal  air 
Beyond  the  balsam  firs. 

FT  in  the  summer  mornings 
When  she  strips  the  nets  of  fish, 

The  smell  of  the  dripping  net-twine 
Gives  to  her  heart  a  wish. 

[38] 


THE     HALF-BREED     GIRL 

THE  HALF-BREED  GIRL  (continued) 

"DUT  she  cannot  learn  the  meaning 
Of  the  shadows  in  her  soul, 
The  lights  that  break  and  gather, 
The  clouds  that  part  and  roll, 


T 


HE  reek  of  rock-built  cities, 

Where  her  fathers  dwelt  of  yore. 

The  gleam  of  loch  and  shealing. 
The  mist  on  the  moor. 


^RAIL  traces  of  kindred  kindness, 
Of  feud  by  hill  and  strand. 

The  heritage  of  an  age-long  life 
In  a  legendary  land. 

'HE  wakes  in  the  stifling  wigwam. 
Where  the  air  is  heavy  and  wild. 

She  fears  for  something  or  nothing 
With  the  heart  of  a  frightened  child. 


[39] 


VIA     BOREALIS 


THE  HALF-BREED  GIRL  (continued) 

CHE  sees  the  stars  turn  slowly 
Past  the  tangle  of  the  poles, 
Through  the  smoke  of  the  dying  embers, 
Like  the  eyes  of  dead  souls. 


H 


ER  heart  is  shaken  with  longing 
For  the  strange,  still  years. 

For  what  she  knows  and  knows  not. 
For  the  wells  of  ancient  tears. 


A 


VOICE  calls  from  the  rapids, 

Deep,  careless  and  free, 
A  voice  that  is  larger  than  her  life 
Or  than  her  death  shall  be. 


OHE  covers  her  face  with  her  blanket, 
Her  fierce  soul  hates  her  breath, 
As  it  cries  with  a  sudden  passion 
For  life  or  death. 


[40] 


NIGHT    BURIAL     IN     THE     FOREST 


NIGHT  BURIAL  IN  THE  FOREST 


L 


AY  him  down  where  the  fern  is  thick  and  fair. 

Fain  was  he  for  Hf e,  here  lies  he  low : 
With  the  blood  washed  clean  from  his  brow 

and  his  beautiful  hair, 
Lay  him  here  in  the  dell  where  the  orchids 

grow. 


L 


ET  the  birch-bark  torches  roar  in  the  gloom, 
And  the  trees  crowd  up  in  a  quiet  startled 
ring 
So  lone  is  the  land  that  in  this  lonely  room 
Never  before  has  breathed  a  human  thing. 


/'"^OVER  him  well  in  his  canvas  shroud,  and 

^^         the  moss 

Part  and  heap  again  on  his  quiet  breast, 
What  recks  he  now  of  gain,  or  love,  or  loss 
Who  for  love  gained  rest? 

[41] 


VIA     BOREALIS 


NIGHT  BURIAL  IN  THE  FOREST  (contd.) 

XXT'HILE  she  who  caused  it  all  hides  her  in- 
solent eyes 

Or  braids  her  hair  with  the  ribbons  of  lust 
and  of  lies, 

And  he  who  did  the  deed  fares  out  like  a 
hunted  beast 

To  lurk  where  the  musk-ox  tramples  the 
barren  ground 

Where  the  stroke  of  his  coward  heart  is  the 
only  sound. 


H 


AUNTING  the  tamarac  shade, 

Hear  them  up-thronging 
Memories  foredoomed 
Of  strife  and  of  longing: 
Haggard  or  bright 
By  the  tamaracs  and  birches, 
Where  the  red  torch  light 
Trembles  and  searches, 
The  wilderness  teems 
With  inscrutable  eyes 
Of  ghosts  that  are  dreams 
Commingled  with  memories. 

[42] 


NIGHT    BURIAL     IN     THE     FOREST 


NIGHT  BURIAL  IN  THE  FOREST  (contd.) 

T    EAVE  him  here  in  his  secret  ferny  tomb, 
-^     Withdraw  the  little  light  from  the  ocean 
of  gloom, 
He  who  feared  nought  will  fear  aught  never, 
Left  alone  in  the  forest  forever  and  ever. 


T 


HEN,  as  we  fare  on  our  way  to  the  shore 

Sudden  the  torches  cease  to  roar: 
For  cleaving  the  darkness  remote  and  still 
Comes   a   wind   with    a   rushing,    harp-like 

thrill, 
The  sound  of  wings  hurled  and  furled  and 

unfurled. 
The  wings  of  the  Angel  who  gathers  the 

souls  from  the  wastes  of  the  world. 


[43] 


VIA    BOREALIS 


T 


T 


DREAM  VOYAGEURS 

O  ports  of  balm  through  isles  of  musk 

The  gentle  airs  are  leading  us; 
To  curtained  calm  and  tents  of  dusk, 
The  wood-wild  things  unheeding  us 
Will  share  their  hoards  of  hardihood, 
Cool  dew  and  roots  of  fern  for  food, 
Frail  berries  full  of  the  sun's  blood. 

O  planets  bland  with  dales  of  dream 

A  tranquil  life  is  leading  us. 
We  shall  land  from  the  languid  stream, 
The  musing  shades,  unheeding  us, 
Will  share  their  veils  of  angelhood. 
Thoughts  that  are  tranced  with  mystic  food. 
Still  broodings  tinct  with  a  seraph's  blood. 


[44] 


SONG 


SONG 

/^^REEP  into  my  heart,  creep  in,  creep  in, 
^^     Afar  from  the  fret,  the  toil  and  the  din, 

Where  the  spring  of  love  forever  flows, 

As  clear  as  light  and  as  sweet  as  the  rose ; 

(Creep  into  my  heart), 

Where  the  dreams  never  wilt  but  their  tints 
refine, 

Rooted  in  beautiful  thoughts  of  thine ; 

Where  morn  falls  cool  on  the  soul,  like  sleep, 

And  the  nights  are  tranquil  and  tranced  and 
deep; 

Where  the  fairest  thing  of  all  the  fair 

Thou  art,  who  hast  somehow  crept  in  there, 

Deep  into  my  heart, 

Deep  into  my  heart. 


[45] 


VIA     BOREALIS 


ECSTASY 

'"p^HE  shore-lark  soars  to  his  topmost  flight, 

Sings  at  the  height  where  morning  springs, 
What  though  his  voice  be  lost  in  the  light. 
The  light  comes  dropping  from  his  wings. 


M 


OUNT,  my  soul,  and  sing  at  the  height 
Of  thy  clear  flight  in  the  light  and  the  air. 

Heard  or  unheard  in  the  night  in  the  light 
Sing  there!     Sing  there! 


[46] 


LYRICS,  SONGS  AND  SONNETS 


MEDITATION     AT     PERUGIA 


MEDITATION  AT  PERUGIA 

'nr^HE  sunset  colours  mingle  in  the  sky, 
"*•       And  over  all  the  Umbrian  valleys  flow ; 

Trevi  is  touched  with  wonder,  and  the 
glow 
Finds  high  Perugia  crimson  with  renown; 

Spello  is  bright ; 
And,   ah!    St.   Francis,   thy   deep-treasured 
town, 
Enshrined  Assisi,  fully  fronts  the  light. 

**  I  ^HIS  valley  knew  thee  many  a  year  ago; 

Thy  shrine   was  built  by  simpleness   of 

heart ; 
And    from   the    wound    called    life    thou 
drew'st  the  smart: 
Unquiet  kings   came  to   thee   and   the   sad 
poor  — 
Thou  gavest  them  peace ; 
Far  as  the  Sultan  and  the  Iberian  shore 

Thy  faith  and  abnegation  gave  release. 

[49] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


MEDITATION  AT  PERUGIA  (continued) 

"p\EEPER  our  faith,  but  not  so  sweet  as  thine ; 
"^^^     Wider  our  view,  but  not  so  sanely  sure ; 

For  we  are  troubled  by  the  witching  lure 
Of  Science,  with  her  lightning  on  the  mist ; 

Science  that  clears. 
Yet  never  quite  discloses  what  she  wist. 

And  leaves  us  half  with  doubts  and  half 
with  fears. 


\T7E  act  her  dreams  that  shadow  forth  the 
^^  truth. 

That  somehow  here  the  very  nerves  of 

God 
Thrill  the  old  fires,  the  rocks,  the  primal 
sod; 
We  throw  our  speech  upon  the  open  air. 

And  it  is  caught 
Far  down  the  world,  to  sing  and  murmur 
there ; 
Our  common  words  are  with  deep  won- 
der fraught. 

[50] 


MEDITATION     AT     PERUGIA 

MEDITATION  AT  PERUGIA  (continued) 

QHALL  not  the  subtle  spirit  of  man  contrive 
To  charm  the  tremulous  ether  of  the  soul, 
Wherein  it  breathes?  —  until,  from  pole  to 
pole, 
Those  who  are  kin  shall  speak,  as  face  to  face, 

From  star  to  star, 
Even  from  earth  to  the  most  secret  place. 
Where  God  and  the  supreme  archangels 
are. 


QHALL  we  not  prove,  what  thou  hast  faintly 
^  taught, 

That  all  the  powers  of  earth  and  air  are  one. 
That  one  deep  law  persists  from  mole  to 
sun? 
Shall  we  not  search  the  heart  of  God  and  find 

That  law  empearled. 
Until  all  things  that  are  in  matter  and  mind 
Throb   with   the   secret   that   began   the 
world  ? 


[51] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

MEDITATION  AT  PERUGIA  (continued) 

'\7'E.A,  we  have  journeyed  since  thou  trod'st  the 
road, 
Yet  still  we  keep  the  foreappointed  quest ; 
While   the   last   sunset   smoulders   in   the 
West, 
Still  the  great  faith  with  the  undying  hope 

Upsprings  and  flows. 
While  dim  Assisi  fades  on  the  wide  slope 

And  the  deep  Umbrian  valleys  fill  with 
rose. 


[52] 


WILLIAM     M  ACLENNAN'S     GRAVE 


AT  WILLIAM  MACLENNAN'S  GRAVE 


H 


ERE  where  the  cypress  tall 
Shadows  the  stucco  wall, 

Bronze  and  deep, 
Where  the  chrysanthemums  blow, 
And  the  roses  —  blood  and  snow  — 

He  lies  asleep. 


■pLORENCE  dreameth  afar; 
Memories  of  foray  and  war, 
Murmur  still; 
The  Certosa  crowns  with  a  cold 
Cloud  of  snow  and  gold 
The  olive  hill. 


W 


HAT  has  he  now  for  the  streams 
Born  sweet  and  deep  with  dreams 

From  the  cedar  meres? 
Only  the  Amo's  flow. 
Turbid,  and  weary,  and  slow 

With  wrath  and  tears. 

[53] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


WILLIAM  MACLENNAN'S  GRAVE  (contd.) 


W 


HAT  has  he  now  for  the  song 
Of  the  boatmen,  joyous  and  long, 

Where  the  rapids  shine? 
Only  the  sound  of  toil, 
Where  the  peasants  press  the  soil 

For  the  oil  and  wine. 


CPIRIT-FELLOW  in  sooth 

'^     With  bold  La  Salle  and  Duluth, 


And  La  Verandrye, — 
Nothing  he  has  but  rest, 
Deep  in  his  cypress  nest 

With  memory. 


TJEARTS  of  steel  and  of  fire. 
Why  do  ye  love  and  aspire, 
When  follows 
Death  —  all  your  passionate  deeds. 
Garnered  with  rust  and  with  weeds 
In  the  hollows? 


[54] 


WILLIAM     MACLENNAN'S     GRAVE 


WILLIAM  MACLENNAN'S  GRAVE  (contd.) 

"/^  OD  that  hardened  the  steel, 
^^     Bid  the  flame  leap  and  reel, 
Gave  us  unrest; 
We  act  in  the  dusk  afar, 
In  a  star  beyond  your  star, 
His  behest. 


''"IT /"E  leave  you  dreams  and  names 
^^       Still  we  are  iron  and  flames, 
Biting  and  bright; 
Into  some  virgin  world. 
Champions,  we  are  hurled, 
Of  venture  and  fight." 


H 


ERE  where  the  shadows  fall. 
From  the  cypress  by  the  wall. 

Where  the  roses  are  — 
Here  is  a  dream  and  a  name, 
There,  like  a  rose  of  flame. 

Rises  —  a  star. 

[55] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


THE  WOOD-SPRING  TO  THE  POET 


D 


AWN-COOL,  dew-cool 

Gleams  the  surface  of  my  pool 

Bird  haunted,  fern  enchanted, 

Where  but  tempered  spirits  rule; 

Stars  do  not  trace  their  mystic  lines 

In  my  confines; 

I  take  a  double  night  within  my  breast 

A   night   of  darkened   heavens,   a   night   of 
leaves. 

And  in  the  two-fold  dark  I  hear  the  owl 

Puff  at  his  velvet  horn 

And  the  wolves  howl. 

Even  daylight  comes  with  a  touch  of  gold 

Not  overbold. 

And    shows    dwarf-cornel    and    the    twin- 
flowers. 

Below  the  balsam  bowers. 

Their    tints    enamelled    in    my    dew-drop 
shield. 

Too  small  even  for  a  thirsty  fawn 

[56] 


THE    WOOD-SPRING    TO     THE     POET 

WOOD-SPRING  TO  THE  POET  (contd.) 

To  quench  upon, 

I  hold  my  crystal  at  one  level 

There  where  you  see  the  liquid  bevel 

Break  in  silver  and  go  free 

Singing  to  its  destiny. 


G 


IVE,  Poet,  give! 

Thus  only  shalt  thou  live. 
Give!  for  'tis  thy  joyous  doom 
To  charm,  to  comfort,  to  illume. 


CPEAK  to  the  maiden  and  the  child 
With  accents  deep  and  mild. 
Tell  them  of  the  world  so  wide 
In  words  of  wonder  and  pure  pride, 
Touched  with  the  rapture  of  surprise 
That  dwells  in  a  child  angel's  eyes. 
Awed  with  the  strangeness  of  new-birth. 
When  the  flaming  seraph  sent 
To  lead  him  into  Paradise, 
Calls  his  name  with  the  mother's  voice 
He  has  just  ceased  to  hear  on  earth. 

[57] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


WOOD-SPRING  TO  THE  POET  (contd.) 


G 


IVE  to  the  youth  his  heart's  content, 

But  power  with  prudence  blent, 
Thicken  his  sinews  with  love, 
With  courage  his  heart  prove. 
Till  over  his  spirit  shall  roll 
The  vast  wave  of  control. 
In  the  cages  and  dens  of  strife, 
Where  men  draw  breath 
Thick  with  a  curse  at  the  dear  thing  called 

life, 
Give  them  courage  to  bear, 
Strength  to  aspire  and  dare; 
Give  them  hopes  rooted  in  stone, 
That  the  loveliest  flowers  take  on. 
Bind  on  their  brows  with  a  gesture  free 
The  palm  green  bays  of  liberty. 


/"^  IVE  to  the  mothers  of  men 
^^      The  knowledge  of  joy  in  pain. 
Give  them  the  sense  of  reward 
That  grew  in  the  breast  of  the  Lord 
On  the  dawn  of  the  seventh  mom; 

[58] 


THE     WOOD-SPRING    TO     THE     POET 


WOOD-SPRING  TO  THE  POET  (contd.) 

For  'tis  they  who  re-create  the  world 
Whenever  a  child  is  bom. 


G 


IVE,  Poet,  give! 

Give  them  songs  that  charm  and  fill 
The  soul  with  an  alluring  pleasure, 
Prelusive  to  a  deeper  thrill, 
A  richer  tone,  a  fuller  measure; 
Like  voices,  veiled  with  hidden  treasure, 
Of  angels  on  a  windy  morning. 
That  first  far  off,  then  all  together. 
Come  with  a  glorious  clarion  calling; 
And  when  they  swoon  beneath  the  spell 
Recapture  them  to  hear  the  echoes 
Falling  —  falling  —  falling. 


T 


O  those  stoned  for  the  truth 

Give  ruth; 
Give  manna  for  the  mourner's  mouth 
Sovereign  as  air; 
For  his  heart's  drouth 
A  prayer. 

[59] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

WOOD-SPRING  TO  THE  POET  (contd.) 

/"^  IVE  to  dead  souls  that  mock  at  life 
^^  Aweary  of  their  cankered  hearts, 

Weary  of  sleep  and  weary  of  strife, 

Weary  of  markets  and  of  arts, — 

Helve  them  a  song  of  life, 

Two-edged  with  joyous  life. 

Tempered  trusty  with  life, 

Proud  pointed  with  wild  life, 

Plunge  it  as  lightning  plunges. 

Stab  them  to  life! 


G 


IVE  to  those  who  grieve  in  secret, 
Those  who  bear  the  sorrows  of  earth. 
The  deep  unappeasable  longings 
Which    beset    them    with    throngings    and 

throngings, 
(As,  on  a  windless  night. 
Through  the  fold  of  a  dark  mantle  furled, 
Gleams  on  our  world,  world  after  unknown 

world) 
Give  them  peace. 

Wide  as  the  veil  that  hides  God's  face, 
The  pure  plenitude  of  space, 

[60] 


THE    WOOD-SPRING    TO     THE     POET 

WOOD-SPRING  TO  THE  POET  (contd.) 

In   which  our  universe  is  but  a   glittering 

crease, — 
Give  them  such  peace. 


G 


IVE,  Poet,  give! 

Thus  only  shalt  thou  live: 
Give  as  we  give  who  are  hidden 
In  myriad  dimples  of  rock  and  fern; 
Give  as  we  give  unbidden 
To  tarn  and  rillet  and  burn, 
Where  the  lake  dreams. 
Where  the  fall  is  hurled, 
Striving  to  sweeten 
The  oceans  of  the  world. 


CHOULD  my  song  for  a  moment  cease. 
Silence  fall  in  the  woodland  peace; 
Should  I  wilfully  check  the  flow 
Bubbling  and  dancing  up  from  below; 
Say  to  my  heart  be  still  —  be  still, 
Let  the  murmur  die  with  the  rill; 
Then  should  the  glittering,  grey  sea-things 
Sigh  as  they  wallow  the  under  springs ; 

[6i] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

WOOD-SPRING  TO  THE  POET  (contd.) 

Where  the  deep  brine-pools  used  to  lie 

Deserts  vast  would  stare  at  the  sky, 

And  even  thy  rich  heart 

(O  Poet,  Poet!) 

Even  thy  rich  heart  run  dry. 


[62] 


THE     NOVEMBER     PANSY 


THE  NOVEMBER  PANSY 

np^HIS  is  not  June, —  by  Autumn's  stratagem 
^       Thou  hast  been  ambushed  in  the  chilly  air ; 
Upon  thy  fragile  crest  virginal  fair 
The  rime  has  clustered  in  a  diadem ; 

The  early  frost 
Has  nipped  thy  roots  and  tried  thy  tender 
stem, 
Seared  thy  gold  petals,  all  thy  charm  is 
lost. 

npHYSELF  the  only  sunshine:  in  obeying 
-■■       The  law  that  bids  thee  blossom  in  the 
world 
Thy  little  flag  of  courage  is  unfurled; 
Inherent  pansy-memories  are  saying 

That  there  is  sun, 
That  there  is  dew  and  colour  and  warmth  re- 
paying 
The  rain,  the  starlight  when  the  light  is 
done. 

[63] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

THE  NOVEMBER  PANSY  (continued) 

'T^HESE  are  the  gaunt  forms  of  the  hollyhocks 
That    shower   the   seeds   from   out   their 

withered  purses ; 
Here  were  the  pinks;  there  the  nasturtium 
nurses 
The  last  of  colour  in  her  gaudy  smocks ; 

The  ruins  yonder 
Show  but  a  vestige  of  the  flaming  phlox ; 
The  poppies  on  their  faded  glory  ponder. 


T  TERE  visited  the  vagrant  humming-bird, 

The    nebulous   darting   green,    the   ruby- 
throated  ; 
The    warm    fans    of    the    butterfly    here 
floated ; 
Those  two  nests  reared  the  robins,  and  the 
third 
Was  left  forlorn 
Muffled  in  lilacs,  whence  the  perfume  stirred 
The  tremulous  eyelids  of  the  dewy  mom. 


[64] 


THE     NOVEMBER     PANSY 


THE  NOVEMBER  PANSY  (continued) 


T 


Y 


HY  sisters  of  the  early  summer-time 

Were  masquers  in  this  carnival  of  pleas- 
ure; 
Each  in  her  turn  unrolled  her  golden  treas- 
ure, 
And  thou  hast  but  the  ashes  of  the  prime ; 

'Tis  life's  own  malice 
That  brings  the  peasant  of  a  race  sublime 
To  feed  her  flock  around  her  ruined  palace. 

ET  for  withstanding  thus  the  autumn's  dart 

Some  deeper  pansy-insight  will  atone ; 

It  comes  to  souls  neglected  and  alone, 
Something  that  prodigals  in  pleasure's  mart 

Lose  in  the  whirl ; 
The  peasant  child  will  have  a  purer  heart 

Than  the  vain  favourite  of  the  vanished 
earl. 


A 


ND  far  above  this  tragic  world  of  ours 
There  is  a  world  of  a  diviner  fashion, 
A  mystic  world,  a  world  of  dreams  and  pas- 
sion 

[65] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

THE  NOVEMBER  PANSY  (continued) 

That  each  aspiring  thing  creates  and  dowers 

With  its  own  light ; 
Where   even   the   frail   spirits   of  trees   and 
flowers 
Pause,  and  reach  out,  and  pass  from  height 
to  height. 


TTERE  will  we  claim  for  thee  another  fief, 

An  upland  where  a  glamour  haunts  the 

meadows, 
Snow  peaks  arise  enrobed  in  rosy  shadows. 
Fairer  the  under  slopes  with  vine  and  sheaf 

And  shimmering  lea ; 
The  paradise  of  a  simple  old  belief. 

That  flourished  in  the  Islands  of  the  Sea. 


A    SNOW-COOL  cistern  in  the  fairy  hills 

Shall  feed  thy  roots  with  moisture  clear  as 

dew; 
A  ferny  shield  to  temper  the  warm  blue 


[66] 


THE     NOVEMBER    PANSY 

THE  NOVEMBER  PANSY  (continued) 

That  heaven  is ;  a  thrush  that  thrills 

To  answer  his  mate, 
And  when  above  the  ferns  the  shadow  fills, 

Fireflies  to  render  darkness  consolate. 


TTERE  muse  and  brood,  moulding  thy  seed  and 
^-^        die 

And  re-create  thy  form  a  thousand  fold. 

Mellowing  thy  petals  to  more  lucent  gold, 
Till  they  expand,  tissues  of  amber  sky ; 

Till  the  full  hour. 
And  the  full  light  and  the  fulfilling  eye 

Shall    find    amid    the    ferns    the    perfect 
flower. 


[67] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


H 


THE  HEIGHT  OF  LAND 

ERE  is  the  height  of  land: 

The  watershed  on  either  hand 
Goes  down  to  Hudson  Bay 
Or  Lake  Superior ; 
The  stars  are  up,  and  far  away 
The  wind  sounds  in  the  wood,  wearier 
Than  the  long  Ojibway  cadence 
In  which  Potan  the  Wise 
Declares  the  ills  of  life 
And    Chees-que-ne-ne    makes    a    mournful 

sound 
Of  acquiescence.     The  fires  burn  low 
With  just  sufficient  glow 
To  light  the  flakes  of  ash  that  play 
At  being  moths,  and  flutter  away 
To  fall  in  the  dark  and  die  as  ashes : 
Here  there  is  peace  in  the  lofty  air, 
And  Something  comes  by  flashes 
Deeper  than  peace ;  — 
The  spruces  have  retired  a  little  space 

[68] 


THE     HEIGHT     OF    LAND 


THE  HEIGHT  OF  LAND   (continued) 

And  left  a  field  of  sky  in  violet  shadow 
With    stars    like    marigolds    in    a    water- 
meadow. 


N 


OW  the  Indian  guides  are  dead  asleep ; 

There  is  no  sound  unless  the  soul  can  hear 
The  gathering  of  the  waters  in  their  sources. 


W 


E  have   come  up  through  the  spreading 

lakes 

From  level  to  level, — 

Pitching  our  tents  sometimes  over  a  revel 
Of  roses  that  nodded  all  night, 
Dreaming  within  our  dreams, 
To  wake  at  dawn  and  find  that  they  were 

captured 
With  no  dew  on  their  leaves; 
Sometimes  mid  sheaves 
Of  braken  and  dwarf-cornel,  and  again 
On  a  wide  blue-berry  plain 
Brushed  with  the  shimmer  of  a  bluebird's 

wing; 

[69] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

THE  HEIGHT  OF  LAND   (continued) 

A  rocky  islet  followed 

With  one  lone  poplar  and  a  single  nest 

Of  white-throat-sparrows  that  took  no  rest 

But  sang  in  dreams  or  woke  to  sing, — 

To    the    last    portage    and    the    height    of 

land  — : 
Upon  one  hand 
The  lonely  north  enlaced  with  lakes  and 

streams, 
And  the  enormous  targe  of  Hudson  Bay, 
Glimmering  all  night 
In  the  cold  arctic  light; 
On  the  other  hand 
The  crowded  southern  land 
With  all  the  welter  of  the  lives  of  men. 
But  here  is  peace,  and  again 
That  Something  comes  by  flashes 
Deeper  than  peace, —  a  spell 
Golden  and  inappellable 
That  gives  the  inarticulate  part 
Of  our  strange  being  one  moment  of  re- 
lease 

[70] 


THE     HEIGHT     OF    LAND 


THE  HEIGHT   OF  LAND   (continued) 

That  seems  more  native  than  the  touch  of 

time, 
And  we  must  answer  in  chime; 
Though  yet  no  man  may  tell 
The  secret  of  that  spell 
Golden  and  inappellable. 


N 


OW  are  there  sounds  walking  in  the  wood, 

And  all  the  spruces  shiver  and  tremble, 
And  the  stars  move  a  little  in  their  courses. 
The  ancient  disturber  of  solitude 
Breathes  a  pervasive  sigh, 
And  the  soul  seems  to  hear 
The     gathering    of    the    waters    at    their 

sources ; 
Then  quiet  ensues  and  pure  starlight  and 

dark; 
The  region-spirit  murmurs  in  meditation. 
The  heart  replies  in  exaltation 
And  echoes  faintly  like  an  inland  shell 
Ghost  tremors  of  the  spell; 
Thought  reawakens  and  is  linked  again 
With  all  the  welter  of  the  lives  of  men. 

[71] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


THE  HEIGHT  OF  LAND   (continued) 


H 


RE  on  the  uplands  where  the  air  is  clear 
We  think  of  life  as  of  a  stormy  scene, — 
Of  tempest,  of  revolt  and  desperate  shock; 
And  here,  where  we  can  think,  on  the  bright 

uplands 
Where  the  air  is  clear,  we  deeply  brood  on 

life 
Until  the  tempest  parts,  and  it  appears 
As   simple   as  to   the   shepherd   seems   his 

flock: 
A  Something  to  be  guided  by  ideals  — 
That  in  themselves  are  simple  and  serene  — 
Of  noble  deed  to  foster  noble  thought. 
And  noble  thought  to  image  noble  deed, 
Till  deed  and  thought  shall  interpenetrate, 
Making  life  lovelier,  till  we  come  to  doubt 
Whether  the  perfect  beauty  that  escapes 
Is  beauty  of  deed  or  thought  or  some  high 

thing 
Mingled  of  both,  a  greater  boon  than  either: 
Thus  we  have  seen  in  the  retreating  tempest 
The  victor-sunlight  merge  with  the  ruined 

rain, 

[72] 


THE     HEIGHT     OF    LAND 


THE  HEIGHT  OF  LAND   (continued) 

And  from  the  rain  and  sunlight  spring  the 
rainbow. 


T 


HE  ancient  disturber  of  soh'tude 

Stirs  his  ancestral  potion  in  the  gloom, 
And  the  dark  wood 
Is  stifled  with  the  pungent  fume 
Of  charred  earth  burnt  to  the  bone 
That  takes  the  place  of  air. 
Then  sudden  I  remember  when  and  where, — 
The    last    weird    lakelet    foul    with    weedy 

growths 
And  slimy  viscid  things  the  spirit  loathes, 
Skin  of  vile  water  over  viler  mud 
Where     the     paddle     stirred     unutterable 

stenches. 
And  the  canoes  seemed  heavy  with  fear. 
Not  to  be  urged  toward  the  fatal  shore 
Where  a  bush  fire,  smouldering,  with  sud- 
den roar 
Leaped  on  a  cedar  and  smothered  it  with 

light 
And  terror.     It  had  left  the  portage-height 

[73] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

THE  HEIGHT  OF  LAND   (continued) 

A  tangle  of  slanted  spruces  burned  to  the 

roots, 
Covered  still  with  patches  of  bright  fire 
Smoking  with  incense  of  the  fragrant  resin 
That  even  then  began  to  thin  and  lessen 
Into  the  gloom  and  glimmer  of  ruin. 

''TT^IS  overpast.     How  strange  the  stars  have 
"*•  grown ; 

The  presage  of  extinction  glows  on  their 

crests 
And  they  are  beautied  with  impermanence ; 
They  shall  be  after  the  race  of  men 
And  mourn  for  them  who  snared  their  fiery 

pinions, 
Entangled  in  the  meshes  of  bright  words. 


A  LEMMING  stirs  the  fern  and  in  the  mosses 
Eft-minded  things  feel  the  air  change,  and 
dawn 
Tolls    out    from    the    dark    belfries    of    the 
spruces. 

[74] 


THE     HEIGHT     OF    LAND 


THE  HEIGHT  OF  LAND   (continued) 

How  often  in  the  autumn  of  the  world 
Shall  the  crystal  shrine  of  dawning  be  re- 
built 
With  deeper  meaning !     Shall  the  poet  then, 
Wrapped  in  his  mantle  on  the  height  of  land, 
Brood  on  the  welter  of  the  lives  of  men 
And  dream  of  his  ideal  hope  and  promise 
In    the   blush   sunrise?     Shall   he   base   his 

flight 
Upon  a  more  compelling  law  than  Love 
As  Life's  atonement;  shall  the  vision 
Of  noble  deed  and  noble  thought  immingled 
Seem  as  uncouth  to  him  as  the  pictograph 
Scratched   on   the   cave   side   by   the   cave- 
dweller 
To  us  of  the  Christ-time?     Shall  he  stand 
With  deeper  joy,  with  more  complex  emo- 
tion, 
In  closer  commune  with  divinity, 
With   the  deep   fathomed,   with   the   firma- 
ment charted, 
With  life  as  simple  as  a  sheep-boy's  song, 
What  lies  beyond  a  romaunt  that  was  read 

[75] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

THE  HEIGHT  OF  LAND   (continued) 

Once  on  a  morn  of  storm  and  laid  aside 
Memorious   with    strange   immortal   memo- 
ries? 
Or  shall  he  see  the  sunrise  as  I  see  it 
In  shoals  of  misty  fire  the  deluge-light 
Dashes  upon  and  whelms  with  purer  radi- 
ance, 
And  feel  the  lulled  earth,  older  in  pulse  and 

motion. 
Turn  the  rich  lands  and  the  inundant  oceans 
To  the  flushed  color,  and  hear  as  now  I  hear 
The  thrill  of  life  beat  up  the  planet's  margin 
And  break  in  the  clear  susurrus  of  deep  joy 
That  echoes  and  reechoes  in  my  being? 
O  Life  is  intuition  the  measure  of  knowl- 
edge 
And  do  I  stand  with  heart  entranced  and 

burning 
At  the  zenith  of  our  wisdom  when  I  feel 
The  long  light  flow,  the  long  wind  pause, 

the  deep 
Influx  of  spirit,  of  which  no  man  may  tell 
The  Secret,  golden  and  inappellable  ? 

[76] 


NEW     YEAR'S     NIGHT,     1916 


T 


NEW  YEAR'S  NIGHT,  1916 

HE  Earth  moans  in  her  sleep 

Like  an  old  mother 
Whose  sons  have  gone  to  the  war, 
Who  weeps  silently  in  her  heart 
Till  dreams  comfort  her. 


T 


HE  Earth  tosses 

As  if  she  would  shake  off  humanity, 
A  burden  too  heavy  to  be  borne, 
And  free  of  the  pest  of  intolerable  men, 
Spin  with  woods  and  waters 
Joyously  in  the  clear  heavens 
In  the  beautiful  cool  rains, 
Bearing  gladly  the  dumb  animals, 
And  sleep  when  the  time  comes 
Glistening  in  the  remains  of  sunlight 
With  marmoreal  innocency. 


[77] 


LYRICS,  SONGS  AND  SONNETS 


NEW  YEAR'S  NIGHT,  1916  (continued) 


B 


E  comforted,  old  mother, 

Whose  sons  have  gone  to  the  war; 
And  be  assured,  O  Earth, 
Of  your  burden  of  passionate  men, 
For   without   them   who    would    dream   the 

dreams 
That  encompass  you  with  glory, 
Who  would  gather  your  youth 
And  store  it  in  the  jar  of  remembrance, 
Who  would  comfort  your  old  heart 
With  tales  told  of  the  heroes, 
Who  would  cover  your  face  with  the  cere- 
cloth 
All  rustling  with  stars. 
And  mourn  in  the  ashes  of  sunlight. 
Mourn  your  marmoreal  innocency? 


[78] 


I 


FRAGMENT  OF  AN  ODE 


FRAGMENT  OF  AN  ODE  TO 
CANADA 

THIS  is  the  land! 
It  lies  outstretched  a  vision  of  delight, 
Bent  like  a  shield  between  the  silver  seas 
It  flashes  back  the  hauteur  of  the  sun; 
Yet  teems  with  humblest  beauties,  still  a  part 
Of  its  Titanic  and  ebullient  heart. 


T    AND  of  the  glacial,  lonely  mountain  ranges, 
Where   nothing   haps   save   vast   Ionian 
changes, 
The  slow  moraine,  the  avalanche's  wings. 
Summer  and  Sun, —  the  elemental  things. 
Pulses  of  Awe, —  Winter  and  Night  and  the 

lightnings. 
Land  of  the  pines  that  rear  their  dusky  spars 
A  ready  midnight  for  the  earliest  stars. 
The  land  of  rivers,  rivulets,  and  rills, 
Straining  incessant  everyway  to  the  sea, 

[79] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

FRAGMENT  OF  AN  ODE  (continued) 

With  their  white  thunder  harnessed  in  the 
mills, 

Turning  one  wealth  to  another  wealth  per- 
petually ; 

Spinning  the  lightning  with  dynamic  spindles, 

Till  some  far  city  dowered  with  fire  en- 
kindles. 


np^HE  land   of  fruit,  fine-flavoured  with  the 
•^  frost. 

Land  of  the  cattle,  the  deep-chested  host, 
The    happy-souled,    that    contemplate    the 

hours. 
Their  dew-laps  buried  in  the  grass  and  flow- 
ers. 
And,  O !  the  myriad-miracle  of  the  grain 
Cresting  the  hill,  brimming  the  level  plain. 
The  miracle  of  the  flower  and  milk  and  ker- 
nel. 
Nurtured  by  sun-fire  and  frost-fire  supernal, 
Until  the  farmer  turns  it  in  his  hand. 
The  million-millioned  miracle  of  the  land. 

[80] 


FRAGMENT     OF    AN     ODE 


FRAGMENT  OF  AN  ODE  (continued) 

A  ND  yet  with  all  these  pastoral  and  heroic 
graces, 

Our  simplest  flowers  wear  the  loveliest  faces ; 

The  sparrows  are  our  most  enraptured  sing- 
ers, 

And  round  their  songs  the  fondest  memory 
lingers ; 

Our  forests  tower  and  tremble,  star-en- 
chanted, 

Their  roots  are  by  the  timid  spirits  haunted 

Of  hermit  thrushes, —  tranced  is  the  air, 

Ever  in  doubt  when  they  shall  sing  or  where ; 

The  mountains  may  with  ice  and  avalanche 
wrestle. 

Far  down  their  rugged  steeps  dimple  and 
nestle 

The  still,  translucent,  turquoise-hearted 
tarns. 


* 


[8i] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

FRAGMENT  OF  AN  ODE  (continued) 

A  ND  Thou,  O  Power,  that  'stablishest  the  Na- 
-^         tion, 

Give  wisdom  in  the  midst  of  our  elation ; 
Who  are  so  free  that  we  forget  we  are  — 
That  freedom  brings  the  deepest  obligation: 
Grant  us  this  presage  for  a  guiding  star, 
To  lead  the  van  of  Peace,  not  with  a  craven 

spirit, 
But  with  the  consciousness  that  we  inherit 
What  built  the  Empire  out  of  blood  and  fire, 
And  can  smite,  too,  in  passion  and  with  ire. 
Purge  us  of  Pride,  who  are  so  quick  in  vaunt- 
ing 
Thy  gift,  this  land,  that  is  in  nothing  want- 
ing; 
Give  Mind  to  match  the  glory  of  the  gift. 
Give  great  Ideals  to  bridge  the  sordid  rift 
Between  our  heritage  and  our  use  of  it. 


[82] 


FRAGMENT     OF     AN     ODE 

FRAGMENT  OF  AN  ODE  (continued) 

nr^HEN  in  some  day  of  terror  for  the  world, 
'*■       When  all  the  flags  of  the  Furies  are  un- 
furled, 

When  Truth  and  Justice,  wildered  and  un- 
knit, 

Shall  turn  for  help  to  this  young,  radiant 
land. 

We  shall  be  quick  to  see  and  understand : 

What  shall  we  answer  in  that  stricken  hour? 

Shall  the  deep  thought  be  pregnant  then  with 
power? 

Shall  the  few  words  spring  swift  and  grave 
and  clear? 

Use  well  the  present  moment.     They  shall 
hear. 

August,  igii. 


[83] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


FANTASIA 

TTERE  in  Samarcand  they  offer  emeralds, 
Pure  as  frozen  drops  of  sea-water, 
Rubies,    pale    as    dew-ponds    stained    with 

slaughter. 
Where  the  fairies  fought  for  a  king's  daugh- 
ter 
In  the  elfin  upland. 

Here  they  sell  you  jade  and  calcedony, 
And  the  matrix  of  the  turquoise. 
Spheres  of  onyx  held  in  eagles'  claws, 
But  they  keep  the  gems  as  far  asunder 
From  the  dull  stones  as  the  lightning  from 

the  thunder ; 
They  can  never  come  together 
On  the  mats  of  Turkish  leather 
In  the  booths  of  Samarcand. 


[84] 


FANTASIA 


FANTASIA  (continued) 

TTERE  they  sell  you  balls  of  nard  and  honey, 
And  squat  jars  of  clarid  butter, 
And  the  cheese  from  Kurdistan. 
When  you  offer  Prankish  money. 
Then  they  scowl  and  curse  and  mutter. 
Deep  in  Kurdish  or  Persan 
For  they  want  your  heart  out  and  my  hand 
In  the  booths  of  Samarcand. 


T 


HEY  would  sell  your  heart's  blood  separate, 
In  a  jar  with  a  gold  brim, 

With  a  text  of  burning  hatred 

Coiled  around  the  rim ; 

They  would  sell  my  hand  upon  a  beam  of 
teak  wood. 

In  the  other  scale  a  feather  curled ; 

They  would  sell  your  heart  upon  a  silver  bal- 
ance 

Weighed  against  the  world. 

But  your  heart  could  never  touch  my  hand, 

They  could  never  come  together 

On  the  mats  of  Turkish  leather 

In  the  booths  of  Samarcand. 

[85] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


THE  LOVER  TO  HIS  LASS 

/^ROWN   her  with   stars,   this  angel   of  our 
^^         planet, 

Cover   her   with   morning,    this   thing    of 
pure  delight, 
Mantle  her  with  midnight  till  a  mortal  can- 
not 
See  her  for  the  garments  of  the  light  and 
the  night. 


T  TOW  far  I  wandered,  worlds  away  and  far 
away. 
Heard  a  voice  but  knew  it  not  in  the  clear 
cold, 
Many  a  wide  circle  and  many  a  wan  star 
away. 
Dwelling    in    the    chambers    where    the 
worlds  were  growing  old. 


[86] 


THE     LOVER    TO     HIS     LASS 

THE  LOVER  TO  HIS  LASS  (continued) 

O  AW  them  growing  old  and  heard  them  fall- 
ing 
Like  ripe  fruit  when  a  tree  is  in  the  wind; 
Saw  the  seraphs  gather  them,  their  clarion 
voices  calling 
In  rounds  of  cheering  labour   till  the   or- 
chard floor  was  thinned. 


CAW  a  whole  universe  turn  to  its  setting, 
Old  and  cold  and  weary,  gray  and  cold  as 
death. 
But   before   mine    eyes   were   veiled   in   for- 
getting, 
Something  always  caught  my  soul  and  held 
its  breath. 


/^ AUGHT  it  up  and  held  it,  now  I  know  the 
^^         reason ; 

Governed  it  and  soothed  it,  now  I  know 
why; 

[87] 


LYRICS,    SONGS    AND    SONNETS 

THE  LOVER  TO  HIS  LASS  (continued) 

Nurtured  it  and  trained  it  and  kept  it  for  the 
season 
When  new  worlds  should  blossom  in  the 
springtime  sky. 


T  TOW  have  they  blossomed,  see  the  sky  is  like 
a  garden ! 
Ah !  how  fresh  the  worlds  look  hanging  on 
the  slope ! 
Pluck  one  and  wear  it,  Love,  and  ask  the 
Gardener's  pardon. 
Pluck  out  the  Pleiads  like  a  spray  of  helio- 
trope. 


QEE  Aldebaran  like  a  red  rose  clamber. 

See  brave  Betelgeux  pranked  with  poppy 
light; 
This    young   earth    must    float    in   floods   of 
amber 
Glowing  with  a  crocus  flame  in  the  dells 
of  night. 

[88] 


THE     LOVER    TO     HIS     LASS 

THE  LOVER  TO  HIS  LASS  (continued) 

/^   YOU  cannot  cheat  the  soul  of  an  inborn 
ambition, 
'Tis  a  naked  viewless  thing  living  in  its 
thought, 
But  it  mounts  through  errors  and  by  valleys 
of  contrition 
Till  it  conquers  destiny  and  finds  the  thing 
it  sought. 


/'^ROWN  her  with  stars,  this  angel  of  our 
^^         planet. 

Cover  her  with  morning,  this  thing  of  pure 
delight, 
Mantle  her  with  midnight  till  a  mortal  can- 
not 
See  her  for  the  garments  of  the  light  and 
the  night. 


[89] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


A 


A 


THE  GHOST'S  STORY 

LL  my  life  long  I  heard  the  step 
Of  some  one  I  would  know, 

Break  softly  in  upon  my  days 
And  lightly  come  and  go. 

FOOT  so  brisk  I  said  must  bear 
A  heart  that's  clean  and  clear; 
If  that  companion  blithe  would  come, 
I  should  be  happy  here. 


"DUT  though  I  waited  long  and  well. 
He  never  came  at  all, 
I  grew  aweary  of  the  void. 
Even  of  the  light  foot-fall. 


F 


ROM  loneliness  to  loneliness 
I  felt  my  spirit  grope  — 

At  last  I  knew  the  uttermost. 
The  loneliness  of  hope. 

[90] 


THE     GHOST'S     STORY 


THE  GHOST'S  STORY  (continued) 

A  ND  just  upon  the  border  land, 
''■^     Where  flesh  and  spirit  part, 
I  knew  the  secret  foot-fall  was 
The  beating  of  my  heart. 


[91] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


T 


NIGHT 

HE  night  is  old,  and  all  the  world 
Is  wearied  out  with  strife ; 

A  long  gray  mist  lies  heavy  and  wan 
Above  the  house  of  life. 


T?OUR  stars  bum  up  and  are  unquelled 
By  the  low,  shrunken  moon; 
Her  spirit  draws  her  down  and  down  — 
She  shall  be  buried  soon. 


T 


HERE  is  a  sound  that  is  no  sound, 
Yet  fine  it  falls  and  clear. 

The  whisper  of  the  spinning  earth 
To  the  tranced  atmosphere. 


A 


N  odour  lives  where  once  was  air, 

A  strange,  unearthly  scent. 
From  the  burning  of  the  four  great  stars 

Within  the  firmament. 

[92] 


NIGHT 


NIGHT  (continued) 


T 


HE  universe,  deathless  and  old. 
Breathes,  yet  is  void  of  breath : 

As  still  as  death  that  seems  to  move 
And  yet  is  still  as  death. 


[93] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


THE  APPARITION 

/"^  ENTLE  angel  with  your  mantle, 
^"^     All  of  tender  green, 

I  was  yearning  for  a  vision 
Of  the  life  unseen. 


"IXZHEN  you  hovered  in  the  sunset. 
Just  as  rain  was  done ; 
Where  the  dropping  from  the  poplars 
Seemed  like  rain  begun. 


'TpHERE  you  gathered  forming  slowly, 
Rounding  into  view: 
All  your  vesture  glowed  like  verdure 
When  the  sap  is  new. 

''  I  ^HEN  you  mutely  gave  your  warning 
And  I  felt  the  stress 
Of  its  passion  and  its  presage 
And  its  uttemess. 

[94] 


THE     APPARITION 


THE  APPARITION  (continued) 

np^HERE  you  swayed  one  tranquil  moment, 
•*■       Mystically  fair, 

Then  you  were  not  of  the  sunset, 
Were  not  in  the  air. 


[95] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


T 


N 


AT  SEA 

HERE  are  emerald  pools  in  the  sea, 
And  wing-like  flashes  of  light ; 

The  sea  is  bound  with  the  heavens 
In  a  large  delight. 

IGHT  comes  out  of  the  east 
And  rushes  down  on  the  sun; 

The  emerald  pools  and  the  light  pools 
Are  darkened  and  done. 


O 


UR  boat  dips  and  cleaves  onward, 
Careless  of  night  or  of  light, 

Following  the  line  of  her  compass 
By  her  engines'  might. 


T 


HROUGH  the  desert  of  air  and  of  water ; 

Like  the  lonely  soul  of  man, 
Following  her  fate  to  the  ending, 

Unaware  of  the  hidden  plan. 

[96] 


AT    SEA 


AT  SEA  (continued) 

QURE  only  of  battle  and  longing, 
Of  the  pain  and  the  quest, 
And  beyond  in  the  darkness  somewhere 
Sure  of  her  rest. 


[97] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


MADONNA  WITH  TWO  ANGELS 

T  TNDER  the  sky  without  a  stain 

The  long,  ripe,  rippling  of  the  grain; 
Light,  broadcast  from  the  golden  oats 
Over  the  blackberry  fences  floats. 
Madonna  sits  in  a  cedar  chair 
Tranquillized  by  the  warm,  still  air ; 
One  of  the  angels  asleep  on  her  knee 
Under  the  shade  of  an  apple  tree. 
The  other  angel  holds  a  doll, 
Covered  warm  in  a  tiny  shawl; 
The  toy  is  supposed  to  be  fast  asleep 
As  the  sister  angel:  in  dimples  deep 
The  grave,  sweet  charm  on  the  baby  face 
Repeats  the  look  of  maturer  grace 
That  hovers  about  Madonna's  eyes, 
One  of  the  heavenly  mysteries 
From  far  ethereal  latitudes 
Where  neither  doubt  nor  trouble  intrudes. 


[98] 


MADONNA  WITH  TWO  ANGELS 

MADONNA  WITH  TWO  ANGELS  (contd.) 

Ponder  here  in  the  orchard  nest 
On  the  truth  of  life  made  manifest : 
The  struggle  and  effort  was  all  to  prove 
That  the  best  of  the  world  is  home  and  love. 


[99] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


MID-AUGUST 

^ROM  the  upland  hidden, 
Where  the  hill  is  sunny 
Tawny  like  pure  honey 
In  the  August  heat, 

Memories  float  unbidden 
Where  the  thicket  serries 
Fragrant  with  ripe  berries 
And  the  milk-weed  sweet. 


L 


IKE  a  prayer-mat  holy 
Are  the  patterned  mosses 
Which  the  twin-flower  crosses 
With  her  flowerless  vine; 

In  fragile  melancholy 

The  pallid  ghost  flowers  hover 
As  if  to  guard  and  cover 
The  shadow  of  a  shrine. 


[lOO] 


MID-AUGUST 


MID-AUGUST  (continued) 

ITT'HERE  the  pine-linnet  lingered 
The  pale  water  searches, 
The  roots  of  gleaming  birches 
Draw  silver  from  the  lake ; 
The  ripples,  liquid-fingered, 
Plucking  the  root-layers, 
Fairy  like  lute  players 
Lulling  music  make. 


O 


I 


TO  lie  here  brooding 
Where  the  pine-tree  column 
Rises  dark  and  solemn 
To  the  airy  lair, 
Where,  the  day  eluding, 

Night  is  couched  dream  laden, 
Like  a  deep  witch-maiden 
Hidden  in  her  hair. 


N  filmy  evanescence 

Wraithlike  scents  assemble, 
Then  dissolve  and  tremble 
A  little  until  they  die; 

[lOl] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

MID-AUGUST  (continued) 

Spirits  of  the  florescence 

Where  the  bees  searched  and  tarried 
Till  the  blossoms  all  were  married 
In  the  days  before  July. 


T    IGHT  has  lost  its  splendour, 
Light  refined  and  sifted, 
Cool  light  and  dream  drifted 
Ventures  even  where, 
(Seeping  silver  tender) 
In  the  dim  recesses, 
Trembling  mid  her  tresses. 
Hides  the  maiden  hair. 


/COVERED  with  the  shy-light, 
^^     Filling  in  the  hushes. 

Slide  the  tawny  thrushes 
Calling  to  their  broods, 
Hoarding  till  the  twilight 

The  song  that  made  for  noon-days 
Of  the  amorous  June  days 
Preludes  and  interludes. 
[102] 


MID -AUGUST 


MID-AUGUST  (continued) 

'T^HE  joy  that  I  am  feeling 
"*•       Is  there  something  in  it 

Unlike  the  warble  the  linnet 
Phrases  and  intones? 
Or  is  a  like  thought  stealing 
With  a  rapture  fine,  free 
Through  the  happy  pine  tree 
Ripening  her  cones? 


I 


N  some  high  existence 
In  another  planet 
Where  their  poets  cannot 
Know  our  birds  and  flowers, 

Does  the   same  persistence 
Give  the  dreams  they  issue 
Something  like  the  tissue 
Of  these  dreams  of  ours? 


O 


TO  lie  athinking  — 
Moods  and  whims!     I  fancy 
Only  necromancy 
Could  the  web  unroll, 
[  103] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

MID-AUGUST  (continued) 

Only  somehow  linking 

Beauties  that  meet  and  mingle 

In  this  quiet  dingle 

With  the  beauty  of  the  whole. 


[104] 


MIST    AND     FROST 


V 


MIST  AND  FROST 

EIL-LIKE  and  beautiful 
Gathered  the  dutiful 

Mist  in  the  night, 
True  to  the  messaging, 
Dreamful  and  presaging 

Vapour  and  light. 


/^  MOSTLY  and  chill  it  is, 
^^     Pallid  and  still  it  is. 
Sudden  uprist; 
What  is  there  tragical, 
Moving  or  magical, 
Hid  in  the  mist? 

1\  T ILLIONS  of  essences, 
Fairy-like  presences 
Formless  as  yet; 
Light-riven  spangles, 
Crystalline  tangles 
Floating  unset. 

[105] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


MIST  AND  FROST  (continued) 

T?ROST  will  come  shepherding 
Nowise  enjeoparding 
Frondage  or  flower; 
Just  a  degree  of  it, 
Nought  can  we  see  of  it 
Only  its  power. 


Tj^ARTH  like  a  Swimmer 
"^     Plunged  into  the  dimmer 
Wave  of  the  night, 
Now  is  uprisen, 
An  Elysian  vision 

Of  spray  and  of  light. 


T 


IS  the  intangible 
Delicate  frangible 

Secret  of  mist. 
Breathing  may  banish  it. 
Thought  may  evanish  it,- 

Ponder  and  whist! 

[io6] 


MIST    AND     FROST 


MIST  AND  FROST  (continued) 

PASSIONLESS  purity, 
Calmness  in  surety 
Dwells  everywhere, 
A  winnowed  whiteness, 
A  lunar  lightness 

Glows  in  the  air. 


B 


UT  in  the  heart  of  it 
Every  least  part  of  it 

Blooms  with  the  charm, 
Star-shape  and  frondage 
Broken  from  bondage 

Forged  into  form. 


/CRYSTALS  encrusted, 
^^     Diamonds  dusted 
Line  ever5rthing. 
Tiny  the  stencillings 
Are  as  the  pencillings 
On  a  moth's  wing. 


[107] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


MIST  AND  FROST  (continued) 


A 


ND  O,  what  a  wonder! 
No  farther  asunder 

Than  atoms  are  laid, 
The  arches  and  angles 
Of  star-froth  and  spangles 

Cast  their  own  shade. 


O 


UT  from  the  chalices, 
The  pigmy  palaces 

Where  the  tint  hides, 
Opal  and  sapphire 
Half -pearl  and  half- fire 

The  colour  slides ; 


T 


ILL  the  frail  miracle 
Rapturous  lyrical 

Flushes  and  glows 
With  a  wraith  of  florescence 
That  tempers  or  lessens 

The  light  of  the  snows. 

[io8] 


MIST    AND     FROST 


MIST  AND  FROST  (continued) 


H 


B 


ELD  all  aquiver, — 
But  now  with  a  shiver 

The  power  of  the  sun 
Dissolves  the  laces 
Of  the  tender  mazes, 

All  is  undone. 


UT  the  old  Earth  brooding, 
All  wisdom  including. 

Affirms  and  assures 
That  above  the  material, 
Triumphal  imperial 

Beauty  endures. 


[109] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


THE  BEGGAR  AND  THE  ANGEL 

A  N  angel  burdened  with  self-pity 

Came  out  of  heaven  to  a  modern  city. 

He  saw  a  beggar  on  the  street, 
Where  the  tides  of  traffic  meet. 

A  pair  of  brass-bound  hickory  pegs 
Brought  him  his  pence  instead  of  legs. 

A  murky  dog  by  him  did  lie, 
Poodle,  in  part,  his  ancestry. 

The  angel  stood  and  thought  upon 
This  poodle-haunted  beggar  man. 

"  My  life  is  grown  a  bore,"  said  he, 
"  One  long  round  of  sciamachy ; 

I  think  I'll  do  a  little  good, 
By  way  of  change  from  angelhood." 

[no] 


THE  BEGGAR  AND  THE  ANGEL 

THE  BEGGAR  AND  THE  ANGEL  (contd.) 

He  drew  near  to  the  beggar  grim, 
And  gravely  thus  accosted  him: 

"  How  would  you  like,  my  friend,  to  fly 
All  day  through  the  translucent  sky; 

To  knock  at  the  door  of  the  red  leaven, 
And  even  to  enter  the  orthodox  heaven? 

If  you  would  care  to  know  this  joy, 
I  will  surrender  my  employ, 

And  take  your  ills,  collect  your  pelf, 
An  humble  beggar  like  yourself. 

For  ages  you  these  joys  may  know, 
While  I  shall  suffer  here  below; 

And  in  the  end  we  both  may  gain 
Access  of  pleasure  from  my  pain." 

The  stationary  vagrant  said, 
"I  do  not  mind,  so  go  ahead." 

[Ill] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


THE  BEGGAR  AND  THE  ANGEL  (contd.) 

The  angel  told  the  heavenly  charm, 
He  felt  a  wing  on  either  arm; 


"  Good-day,"  he  said,  "  this  floating's  queer 
If  I  should  want  to  change  next  year — ?" 

"  Pull  out  that  feather !  "  the  angel  said, 
"  The  one  half  black  and  the  other  half  red." 

The  cripple  cried,  "  Before  you're  through 
You  may  get  fagged,  and  if  you  do, — " 

The  angel  superciliously  — 

"  My  transformed  friend,  don't  think  of  me. 

I  shall  be  happy  day  and  night, 
In  doing  what  I  think  is  right." 

"  So  so,"  the  feathered  beggar  said, 
"  Good-bye,  I  am  just  overhead." 

*uSf  «t*  ■!*  tS» 

^V*  ^»  rfm  0^ 

[112] 


THE  BEGGAR  AND  THE  ANGEL 


THE  BEGGAR  AND  THE  ANGEL  (contd.) 

^TpHE  angel  when  he  grasped  the  dish, 
"^       Began  to  criticize  his  wish. 


The  seat  was  hard  as  granite  rocks, 
His  real  legs  were  in  the  box. 

His  knees  were  cramped,  his  shins  were  sore, 
The  lying  pegs  stuck  out  before. 

In  vain  he  clinked  the  dish  and  whined. 
The  passers-by  seemed  deaf  and  blind. 

As  pious  looking  as  Saint  Denis, 
An  urchin  stole  his  catch-penny. 

And  even  the  beggar's  drab-fleeced  poodle 
Began  to  know  him  for  a  noodle. 

"  It  has  an  uncelestial  scent. 
The  clothing  of  this  mendicant ;  " 

He  cried,  "  That  trickling  down  my  spine 
Is  anything  but  hyaline. 

[113] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

THE  BEGGAR  AND  THE  ANGEL  (contd.) 

This  day  is  like  a  thousand  years : 
I'd  give  an  age  of  sighs  and  tears 

To  see  with  his  confectioned  grin 
One  cherub  sitting  on  his  chin. 

That  cripple  was  by  far  too  sly  — 
I  wish  he'd  tumble  from  the  sky, 

That  things  might  be  as  they  were  before ; 
I  really  cannot  stand  much  more !  " 

H:  ^  ii:  ^  ^ 


nr^HE  beggar  in  the  angel's  guise, 

Rose  far  above  the  smoky  skies. 


But  being  a  beggar,  never  saw 
The  charm  of  the  compelling  law 

That  turned  the  swinging  universe ; 
'Twas  gloomy  as  an  empty  purse. 

[114] 


THE  BEGGAR  AND  THE  ANGEL 

THE  BEGGAR  AND  THE  ANGEL  (contd.) 

Often  with  heaven  in  his  head, 
He  blundered  on  a  planet  dead. 

And  when  with  an  immortal  fuss, 
He  singed  his  wings  at  Sirius. 

He  plucked  the  feather  with  his  teeth. 
The  charm  was  potent  and  beneath, 

He  saw  the  turmoil  of  the  way 
Grown  wilder  at  the  close  of  day, 

With  the  sad  poodle,  can  in  hand, 
The  angel  still  at  the  old  stand. 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  angel,  hemming  and 

humming, 
"  Truly  I  thought  you  were  never  coming." 

*'  That's  an  unhandsome  thing  to  say. 
Seeing  I've  only  been  gone  a  day. 

But  there's  nothing  in  all  your  brazen  sky 
To  match  the  cock  of  that  poodle's  eye." 

[115] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


THE  BEGGAR  AND  THE  ANGEL  (contd.) 

"  Take  your  dish  and  give  me  my  wings, 
'Tis  but  a  fair  exchange  of  things." 

**t*  *&  *!■  vl* 

•!•  *r  ^S*  ^t* 


'T^HE  beggar  felt  his  garment's  rot, 
■*■       The  horn  ridge  of  each  callous  spot ; 


He  clinked  his  can  and  was  content ; 
His  poverty  was  permanent. 


[ii6] 


IMPROVISATION     ON     AN     OLD    SONG 


IMPROVISATION  ON  AN  OLD  SONG 

(The  refrain  is  quoted  by  Edward  Fitzgerald  in 
one  of  his  letters) 


/"^ROWING,  growing,  all  the  glory  going; 

Flashing  out  of  fire  and  light,  burning  to  a 
husk, 
All  the  world's  a-dying  and  failing  in  the 
dusk  — 
Growing,  growing,  all  the  glory  going. 

Rust  is  on  the  door-latch,  ashes  at  the  root, 
Dry  rot  in  the  ridge-pole,  canker  in  the  fruit ; 
Growing,  growing,  all  the  glory  going. 

Plot,  ye  subtle  statesmen, —  a  trace  of  melted 

wax; 
Bind,    ye    haughty    prelates, —  a   thread    of 

ravelled  flax; 
Growing,  growing,  all  the  glory  going. 

[117] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

IMPROVISATION  ON  OLD  SONG  (contd.) 

March,  ye  mighty  captains, —  an  eddy  in  the 

dust; 
Rave,  ye  furious  lovers, —  a  stain  of  crimson 

rust; 
Growing,  growing,  all  the  glory  going. 

Pictures,     poems,     music  —  their     essential 

soul. 
Idle  as  dry  roses  in  a  silver  bowl ; 

Growing,  growing,  all  the  glory  going. 

London  is  a  hearsay,  Paris  but  a  myth, 
Rome  a  wand  of  sweet-flag  withered  to  the 
pith ; 
Growing,  growing,  all  the  glory  going. 

Palsy  shakes  the  planets,  frost  has  chilled  the 

sun. 
In  a  crushing  silence  the  All  is  dead  and 

done. 
Growing,  growing,  all  the  glory  going. 


[ii8] 


IMPROVISATION     ON     AN     OLD     SONG 

IMPROVISATION  ON  OLD  SONG  (contd.) 

II 

AGOING,  going,  all  the  glory  growing, 
^-^     See  it  stir  and  flutter ;  that  is  singing,  hark ! 
Singing  in  the  caverns  of  the  primal  dark. 
Going,  going,  all  the  glory  growing. 

What  is  in  the  making,  what  immortal  plan 
Draws  to  its  unfolding?     'Tis  the  Soul  of 
man. 
Going,  going,  all  the  glory  growing. 

See  it  mount  and  hover,  singing  as  it  goes. 
Battling  with  the  darkness,  nourished  by  its 
woes; 
Going,  going,  all  the  glory  growing. 

The  bale-fires  of  midnight  glaring  in  its  eyes, 
Past  the  phantom  shadows  see  it  rush  and 

rise; 
Going,  going,  all  the  glory  growing. 


[119] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

IMPROVISATION  ON  OLD  SONG  (contd.) 

The  supernal  morning  on  its  dewy  wings, 
Soaring    and    scorning    the    lust    of    earthy 
things ; 
Going,  going,  all  the  glory  growing. 

The  beatific  noontide  on  its  eager  breast 
Springing  and  singing  to  its  halcyon  rest; 
Going,  going,  all  the  glory  growing. 

In  its  starry  vesture  not  a  vestige  of  the  sod, 
Winging  still  and  singing  to  the  heart  of 
God. 
Going,  going,  all  the  glory  growing. 


[120] 


O    TURN     ONCE    MORE 


o 


O  TURN  ONCE  MORE 

TURN  once  more ! 
The  meadows  where  we  mused  and  strayed 
together 
Abound  and  glow  yet  with  the  ruby  sorrel ; 
'Twas  there  the  bluebirds  fought  and  played 

together, 
Their  quarrel  was  a  flying  bluebird-quarrel; 
Their   nest    is   firm   still   in   the   burnished 

cherry, 
They  will  come  back  there  some  day  and  be 
merry; 
O  turn  once  more. 


O 


TURN  once  more! 
The  spring  we  lingered  at  is  ever  steeping 
The  long,  cool  grasses  where  the  violets  hide, 
Where   you   awoke   the   flower-heads  from 
their  sleeping 

[121] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

O  TURN  ONCE  MORE  (continued) 

And  plucked  them,  proud  in  their  inviolate 

pride ; 
You  left  the  roots,  the  roots  will  flower  again, 
O  turn  once  more  and  pluck  the  flower  again ; 
O  turn  once  more. 


r\  TURN  once  more ! 

^■"^     We  were  the  first  to  find  the  fairy  places 
Where    the    tall    lady-slippers    scarf'd    and 

snooded, 
Painted    their   lovely   thoughts   upon   their 

faces, 
And  then,  bewitched  by  their  own  beauty, 

brooded ; 
This  will  recur  in  some  enchanted  fashion ; 
Time  will  repeat  his  miracles  of  passion; 
O  turn  once  more. 


f~\  TURN  once  more ! 

^""^     What  heart  is  worth  the  longing  for,  the 
winning, 
That  is  not  moved  by  currents  of  surprise ; 

[122] 


O    TURN     ONCE    MORE 


O  TURN  ONCE  MORE  (continued) 

Who  never  breaks  the  silken  thread  in  spin- 
ning, 

Shows  a  bare  spindle  when  the  daylight  dies ; 

The  constant  blood  will  yet  flow  full  and 
tender; 

The  thread  will  mended  be  though  gossamer- 
slender  ; 
O  turn  once  more. 


[123] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


T 


AT  THE  GILL-NETS 

UG  at  the  net, 

Haul  at  the  net, 
Strip  off  the  quivering  fish ; 
Hid  in  the  mist 
The  winds  whist, 
Is  like  my  heart's  wish. 


w 


H 


HAT  is  your  wish. 

Your  heart's  wish? 
Is  it  for  home  on  the  hills? 
Strip  off  the  fish, 
The  silver  fish. 
Caught  by  their  rosy  gills. 

OW  can  I  know, 

I  love  you  so. 
Each  little  thought  I  get 
Is  held  so, 
It  dies  you  know. 
Caught  in  your  heart's  net. 

[  124] 


AT     THE     GI  LL-NETS 


AT  THE  GILL-NETS  (continued) 


T 


UG  at  your  net, 

Your  heart's  net, 
Strip  off  my  silver  fancies; 
Keep  them  in  rhyme, 
For  a  dull  time, 
Fragile  as  frost  pansies. 


[125] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


I 


A  LOVE  SONG 

GAVE  her  a  rose  in  early  June, 
Fed  with  the  sun  and  the  dew, 
Each  petal  I  said  is  a  note  in  the  tune. 
The    rose    is    the    whole    tune    through    and 

through. 
The  tune  is  the  whole  red-hearted  rose, 
Flush  and  form,  honey  and  hue, 
Lull  with  the  cadence  and  throb  to  the  close, 
I  love  you,  I  love  you,  I  love  you. 


QHE  gave  me  a  rose  in  early  June, 
Fed  with  the  sun  and  the  dew. 
Each  petal  she  said  is  a  mount  in  the  moon. 
The  rose   is   the   whole  moon  through  and 

through, 
The  moon  is  the  whole  pale-hearted  rose. 
Round  and  radiance,  burnish  and  blue, 
Break   in   the   flood-tide   that   murmurs   and 

flows, 
I  love  you,  I  love  you,  I  love  you. 

[126] 


A    LOVE    SONG 


A  LOVE  SONG  (continued) 


T 


HIS  is  our  love  in  early  June, 

Fed  with  the  sun  and  the  dew, 
Moonlight  and  roses  hid  in  a  tune, 
The  roses  are  music  through  and  through. 
The  moonlight  falls  in  the  breath  of  the  rose. 
Light  and  cadence,  honey  and  hue. 
Mingle,  and  murmur,  and  flow  to  the  close, 
I  love  you,  I  love  you,  I  love  you. 


[  127] 


LYRICS.     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


THREE  SONGS 


TXT-HERE  love  is  life 
The  roses  blow, 
Though  winds  be  rude 
And  cold  the  snow, 
The  roses  climb 
Serenely  slow, 
They  nod  in  rhyme 
We  know  —  we  know 
Where  love  is  life 
The  roses  blow. 


Vy HERE  life  is  love 
The  roses  blow, 
Though  care  be  quick 
And  sorrows  grow. 
Their  roots  are  twined 
With  rose-roots  so 

[128] 


THREE     SONGS 


THREE  SONGS  (continued) 

That  rosebuds  find 
A  way  to  show 
Where  life  is  love 
The  roses  blow. 

II 

"VTOTHING  came  here  but  sunlight, 
-^  Nothing  fell  here  but  rain, 

Nothing  blew  but  the  mellow  wind, 
Here  are  the  flowers  again! 


N 


O  one  came  here  but  you,  dear. 

You  with  your  magic  train 
Of  brightness  and  laughter  and  lightness, 

Here  is  my  joy  again ! 


I 


III 

HAVE  songs  of  dancing  pleasure, 
I  have  songs  of  happy  heart, 
Songs  are  mine  that  pulse  in  measure 
To  the  throbbing  of  the  mart. 

[129] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

THREE  SONGS  (continued) 

QONGS  are  mine  of  magic  seeming, 
In  a  land  of  love  forlorn, 
Where  the  joys  are  had  for  dreaming, 
At  a  summons  from  the  horn. 


B 


UT  my  sad  songs  come  unbidden, 

Rising  with  a  wilder  zest, 
From  the  bitter  pool  that's  hidden. 

Deep  —  deep  —  deep  within  my  breast. 


[130] 


THE     SAILOR'S     SWEETHEART 


o 


THE  SAILOR'S  SWEETHEART 

IF  love  were  had  for  asking, 
In  the  markets  of  the  town, 
Hardly  a  lass  would  think  to  wear 

A  fine  silken  gown : 
But  love  is  had  by  grieving 
By  choosing  and  by  leaving, 
And  there's  no  one  now  to  ask  me 
If  heavy  lies  my  heart. 


o 


IF  love  were  had  for  a  deep  wish 

In  the  deadness  of  the  night, 
There'd  be  a  truce  to  longing 

Between  the  dusk  and  the  light: 
But  love  is  had  for  sighing. 
For  living  and  for  dying, 
And  there's  no  one  now  to  ask  me 
If  heavy  lies  my  heart. 


[131] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

THE  SAILOR'S  SWEETHEART  (continued) 

/^    IF  love  were  had  for  taking 
^^^       Like  honey  from  the  hive, 

The  bees  that  made  the  tender  stuff 
Could  hardly  keep  alive : 

But  love  it  is  a  wounded  thing, 

A  tremor  and  a  smart. 

And  there's  no  one  left  to  kiss  me  now 

Over  my  heavy  heart. 


[  132] 


FEUILLES     D'AUTOMNE 


FEUILLES  D'AUTOMNE 

/^  ATHER  the  leaves  from  the  forest 
^"^     And  blow  them  over  the  world, 
The  wind  of  winter  follows 
The  wind  of  autumn  furled. 


O 


NLY  the  beech  tree  cherishes 

A  leaf  or  two  for  ruth, 
Their  stems  too  tough  for  the  tempest. 

Like  thoughts  of  love  and  of  youth. 


Y 


B 


OU  may  sit  by  the  fire  and  ponder 

While  darkness  veils  the  pane. 
And  fear  that  your  memories  are   rushing 
away 

In  the  wind  and  the  rain. 

UT  you'll  find  them  in  the  quiet 
When  the  clouds  race  with  the  moon, 

Making  the  tender  silver  sound 
Of  a  beech  in  the  month  of  June. 

[133] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

FEUILLES  D'AUTOMNE  (continued) 

^OR  you  cannot  rob  the  memory 
Of  the  leaves  it  loves  the  best ; 

The  wind  of  time  may  harry  them, 
It  rushes  away  with  the  rest. 


[134] 


TO     THE     HEROIC     SOUL 


TO  THE  HEROIC  SOUL 


'^URTURE  thyself,  O  Soul,  from  the  clear 
spring 
That  wells  beneath  the  secret  inner  shrine ; 
Commune  with  its  deep  murmur, — 'tis  di- 
vine; 
Be  faithful  to  the  ebb  and  flow  that  bring 
The  outer  tide  of  Spirit  to  trouble  and  swing 
The  inlet  of  thy  being.     Learn  to  know 
These  powers,  and  life  with  all  its  venom 

and  show 
Shall  have  no  force  to  dazzle  thee  or  sting: 


AND  when  Grief  comes  thou  shalt  have  suf- 
fered  more 
Than  all  the  deepest  woes  of  all  the  world; 
Joy,   dancing  in,   shall   find   thee   nourished 

with  mirth; 
Wisdom  shall  find  her  Master  at  thy  door ; 

[135] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

TO  THE  HEROIC  SOUL  (continued) 

And  Love  shall  find  thee  crowned  with  love 

empearled ; 
And  death  shall  touch  thee  not  but  a  new 

birth. 

II 

P>E  strong,  O  warring  soul!     For  very  sooth 
"■^^     Kings  are  but  wraiths,  republics  fade  like 
rain, 
Peoples  are  reaped  and  garnered  as  the  grain, 
And  that  alone  prevails  which  is  the  truth: 
Be  strong  when  all  the  days  of  life  bear  ruth 
And  fury,  and  are  hot  with  toil  and  strain: 
Hold  thy  large  faith  and  quell  thy  mighty 

pain: 
Dream  the  great  dream  that  buoys  thine  age 
with  youth. 

nr^HOU  art  an  eagle  mewed  in  a  sea-stopped 
"^  cave : 

He,    poised    in    darkness    with    victorious 
wings, 

[136] 


TO     THE     HEROIC     SOUL 


TO  THE  HEROIC  SOUL  (continued) 

Keeps  night  between  the  granite  and  the 

sea, 
Until  the  tide  has  drawn  the  warder-wave: 
Then    from    the    portal    where    the    ripple 

rings, 
He   bursts   into   the   boundless   morning, — 

free! 


[137] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


T 


G 


RETROSPECT 

HIS  is  the  mockery  of  the  moving  years; 
Youth's  colour  dies,  the  fervid  morning 
glow 
Is  gone  from  off  the  foreland ;  slow,  slow, 
Even  slower  than  the  fount  of  human  tears 
To  empty,  the  consuming  shadow  nears 
That  Time  is  casting  on  the  worldly  show 
Of  pomp  and  glory.     But  falter  not ;  —  be- 
low 
That   thought   is  based   a   deeper   thought 
that  cheers. 

LEAN  thou  thy  past;  that  will  alone  inure 
To  catch  thy  heart  up  from  a  dark  dis- 
tress ; 
It  were  enough  to  find  one  deed  mature. 
Deep-rooted,    mighty    'mid    the    toil    and 

press ; 
To  save  one  memory  of  the  sweet  and  pure. 
From  out  life's  failure  and  its  bitterness. 

[138] 


FROST     MAGIC 


FROST  MAGIC 


'VTOW,  in  the  moonrise,  from  a  wintry  sky, 

The  frost  has  come  to  charm  with  elfin 

might 
This   quiet    room;    to   draw   with    symbols 

bright 
Faces  and  forms  in  fairest  charactery 
Upon  the  casement;  all  the  thoughts  that 

lie 
Deep  hidden  in  my  heart's  core  he  would 

tell, 
How   the   red   shoots   of   fancy   strike   and 

swell, 
How  they  are  watered,  what  soil  nourished 

by. 

"1 X  JITH  eerie  power  he  piles  his  atomies, 
'  ^       Incrusted   gems,   star-glances   overborne 
With  lids  of  sleep  pulled  from  the  moth's 
bright  eyes, 

[  139] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

FROST  MAGIC  (continued) 

And   forests   of   frail   ferns,   blanched   and 

forlorn, 
Where  Oberon  of  unimagined  size 
Might  in  the  silver  silence  wind  his  horn. 


II 

"IX /"ITH  these  alone  he  draws  in  magic  lines. 
Faces   that   people   dreams,   and   chiefly 

one 
Happy  and  brilliant  as  the  northern  sun, 
And  by  its  darling  side  there  gleams  and 

shines 
One  of  God's  children  with  the  laughing 

signs 
Of  dimples,  and  glad  accents,  and  sweet 

cries. 
That  angels  are  and  heaven's  memories: 
The  wizard  thus  my  soul's  estate  divines; 


[140] 


FROST     MAGIC 


FROST  MAGIC  (continued) 


A 


LL  it  holds  dear  he  sets  alone  apart, 

Etches  the  past  in  likeness  of  dim  groves 
Silvered  in  quiet  rime  and  with  rare  art, 
In  crystal  spoils  and   fairy  treasure-troves, 
He  draws  the  picture  of  the  happy  heart. 
By  those  who  love  it  most,  whom  most  it 
loves. 


[141] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 


IN  SNOW-TIME 

T  HAVE  seen  things  that  charmed  the  heart 

to  rest: 
Faint    moonlight    on    the    towers    of    ancient 

towns, 
Flattering  the  soul  to  dream  of  old  renowns; 
The  first  clear  silver  on  the  mountain  crest 
Where  the  lone  eagle  by  his  chilly  nest 
Called  the  lone  soul  to  brood  serenely  free ; 
Still  pools  of  sunlight  shimmering  in  the  sea, 
Calm  after  storm,  wherein  the  storm  seemed 

blest. 


B 


UT  here  a  peace  deeper  than  peace  is  furled, 
Enshrined  and  chaliced  from  the  change- 
ful hour; 

The  snow  is  still,  yet  lives  in  its  own  light. 

Here  is  the  peace  which  brooded  day  and 
night, 

Before  the  heart  of  man  with  its  wild  power 

Had    ever    spumed    or   trampled    the    great 
world. 

[  142  ]      - 


TO     A     CANADIAN     LAD 


TO  A  CANADIAN  LAD  KILLED 
IN  THE  WAR 

/^  NOBLE  youth  that  held  our  honour  in 
^^^         keeping, 

And  bore  it  sacred  through  the  battle  flame, 

How  shall  we  give  full  measure  of  acclciim 

To  thy  sharp  labour,  thy  immortal  reaping? 

For  though  we  sowed  with  doubtful  hands, 
half  sleeping. 

Thou  in  thy  vivid  pride  hast  reaped  a  na- 
tion, 

And  brought  it  in  with  shouts  and  exulta- 
tion, 

With  drums  and  trumpets,  with  flags  flash- 
ing and  leaping. 


T   ET   us   bring  pungent   wreaths   of   balsam, 
and  tender 
Tendrils    of    wild-flowers,    lovelier    for    thy 
daring, 

[143] 


LYRICS,     SONGS     AND     SONNETS 

TO  A  CANADIAN  LAD  (continued) 

And  deck  a  sylvan  shrine,  where  the  maple 

parts 
The   moonlight,   with   lilac   bloom,   and   the 

splendour 
Of  suns  unwearied;  all  unwithered,  wearing 
Thy  valor  stainless  in  our  heart  of  hearts. 


[144] 


THE  CLOSED  DOOR 


The  dew  falls  and  the  stars  fall, 

The  sun  falls  in  the  west. 

But  never  more 

Through  the  closed  door. 

Shall  the  one  that  I  loved  best 

Return  to  me: 

A  salt  tear  is  the  sea. 

All  earth's  air  is  a  sigh, 

But  they  never  can  mourn  for  me 

With  my  heart's  cry. 

For  the  one  that  I  loved  best 

Who  caressed  me  with  her  eyes, 

And  every  morning  came  to  me. 

With  the  beauty  of  sunrise, 

Who  was  health  and  wealth  and  all. 

Who  never  shall  answer  my  call, 

While  the  sun  falls  in  the  west. 

The  dew  falls  and  the  stars  fall. 


[145] 


BY     A     CHILD'S     BED 


BY  A  CHILD'S  BED 

'HE  breathed  deep, 

And  stepped  from  out  life's  stream 
Upon  the  shore  of  sleep; 
And  parted  from  the  earthly  noise, 
Leaving  her  world  of  toys, 
To  dwell  a  little  in  a  dell  of  dream. 


T 


HEN  brooding  on  the  love  I  hold  so  free. 

My  fond  possessions  come  to  be 
Clouded  with  grief; 
These  fairy  kisses, 
This  archness  innocent, 

Sting  me  with  sorrow  and  disturbed  con- 
tent: 
I  think  of  what  my  portion  might  have  been, 
A  dearth  of  blisses, 
A  famine  of  delights. 

If  I  had  never  had  what  now  I  value  most; 
Till  all  I  have  seems  something  I  have  lost; 
A  desert  underneath  the  garden  shows. 
And  in  a  mound  of  cinders  roots  the  rose. 

[147] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


BY  A  CHILD'S  BED  (continued) 

TTERE  then  I  linger  by  the  little  bed, 
Till  all  my  spirit's  sphere, 
Grows  one  half  brightness  and  the   other 

dead. 
One  half  all  joy,  the  other  vague  alarms ; 
And,  holding  each  the  other  half  in  fee, 
Floats  like  the  growing  moon 
That  bears  implicitly 
Her  lessening  pearl  of  shadow 
Clasped  in  the  crescent  silver  of  her  arms. 


[148] 


ELIZABETH     SPEAKS 


N 


ELIZABETH  SPEAKS 

(Aetat  Six) 

OW  every  night  we  light  the  grate 

And  I  sit  up  till  really  late ; 
My  Father  sits  upon  the  right, 
My  Mother  on  the  left,  and  I 
Between  them  on  an  ancient  chair. 
That  once  belonged  to  my  Great-Gran, 
Before  my  Father  was  a  man. 
We  sit  without  another  light; 
I  really,  truly  never  tire 
Watching  that  space,  as  black  as  night. 
That  hangs  behind  the  fire ; 
For  there  sometimes,  you  know, 
The  dearest,  queerest  little  sparks. 
Without  a  sound  creep  to  and  fro; 
Sometimes  they  form  in  rings 
Or  lines  that  look  like  many  things. 
Like  skipping  ropes,  or  hoops,  or  swings ; 
Before  you  know  what  you're  about, 
They  all  go  out! 

[149] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


ELIZABETH  SPEAKS  (continued) 


M 


Y  Father  says  that  they  are  gnomes, 

Beyond  the  grate  they  have  their  homes, 
In  a  tall,  black,  and  windy  town, 
Behind  a  door  we  cannot  see. 
Often  when  it's  time  for  bed 
The  children  run  away  instead, 
Out  through  the  door  to  see  our  fire. 
Then  their  angry  parents  come 
With  every  candle  in  the  town. 
The  beadle  with  his  lantern  too. 
And  search  and  rummage  up  and  down, 
To  catch  the  children  as  they  play, 
Between  the  rows  of  new-mown  hay, 
And  bring  them  home ; 
(They  must  be,  O,  so  very  small. 
How  do  they  capture  them  at  all? 
But  then  they  must  be  very  dear)  ; 
When  they  can  find  no  more 
They  blow  a  horn  we  cannot  hear. 
And  march  with  the  beadle  at  their  head, 
Right  through  the  little  open  door, 
Then  close  it  tight  and  go  to  bed. 

[150] 


ELIZABETH     SPEAKS 


ELIZABETH  SPEAKS  (continued) 


M 


Y  Mother  says  that  may  be  so ; 

(They  both  agree   they're  gnomes,    you 
know) . 
She  says,  she  thinks  that  every  night, 
The  gnomes  have  had  a  fearful  fight; 
Their  valiant  General  has  been  slain. 
And  all  the  soldiers  leave  the  camp 
To  dig  his  grave  upon  the  plain; 
They  drag  the  General  on  a  gun; 
Every  bandsman  has  a  lamp 
And  there's  a  torch  for  every  one, 
They  dig  his  grave  with  bayonets 
And  wrap  him  grandly  in  his  flag. 
Then  they  gather  in  a  ring, 
The  band  plays  very  soft  and  low. 
And  all  the  soldiers  sing. 
(Of  course  we  cannot  hear,  you  know,) 
Then  some  one  calls  "  The  enemy  comes!  " 
They  muffle  up  their  pipes  and  drums ; 
Every  soldier  in  a  fright 
Puts  out  his  light. 
Then  hand  in  hand,  and  very  still, 

[151] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


ELIZABETH  SPEAKS  (continued) 

They  clamber  up  the  dark,  dark  hill 
And  hold  their  breath  tight  —  tight. 


(I'd  like  to  know  which  tale  is  right.) 

!  there  is  something  I  forgot! 

Sometimes  one  little  spark  bums  on 
Long  after  the  rest  have  gone. 


O 


M 


M 


Y  Father  says  that  lamp  is  left 

By  a  little  crooked,  crotchety  man, 
Who  cannot  find  his  wayward  son; 
When  the  horn  begins  to  blow, 
He  has  to  drop  his  light  and  run. 
Of  course  he  limps  so  slow 
He  squeezes  through  the  very  last, 
When  he  is  gone  the  naughty  scamp 
Jumps  up  and  puff !  out  goes  the  lamp. 

Y  Mother  says  that  is  the  light, 
Borne  by  the  very  bravest  knight ; 

He  is  so  very,  very  brave. 
He  would  not  leave  his  General's  grave, 

[152] 


ELIZABETH     SPEAKS 


ELIZABETH  SPEAKS  (continued) 

And  when  the  Enemy  General  tries 
To  make  him  tell  where  his  General  lies, 
He  answers  boldly,  "I  —  will  —  not !  " 
Then  they  shoot  him  on  the  spot, 
And  give  a  horrid,  dreadful  shout, 
And  then  of  course  his  light  goes  out. 


I 


SIT  and  think  when  they  are  through, 
Which  tale  I  like  best  of  the  two. 
Sometimes  I  like  the  Father  one; 
It  is  such  fun! 

But  then  I  love  the  Mother  one, 
That  dear  brave  soldier  and  the  rest :  — 
Now  which  one  do  you  like  the  best? 


[153] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


A  LEGEND  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY 


A 


T  Bethlehem  upon  the  hill, 

The  day  was  done,  the  night  was  nigh, 
The  dusk  was  deep  and  had  its  will. 
The  stars  were  very  small  and  still, 

Like  unblown  tapers,  faint  and  high. 


'"T^HE  noises  had  begun  to  fall, 
"*•       And  quiet  stole  upon  the  place, 
The  howl  of  dogs  along  the  wall. 
Voices  that  from  the  houstops  call 
And  answer,  and  the  grace 


/^F  some  low  breath  of  even-song 

Grew  faint  apace:  between  the  rocks 
In  misty  pastures,  and  along 
The  dim  hillside  with  crook  and  thong 
The  lonely  shepherds  watched  their  flocks. 

[154] 


A     LEGEND     OF     CHRIST'S     NATIVITY 

LEGEND  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY  (contd.) 

np*HE  Inn-master  within  the  Inn 

Called  loudly  out  after  this  sort, 
'*  Draw  no  more  water,  cease  the  din, 
Pile  the  loose  fodder,  and  begin 
To  turn  the  mules  out  of  the  court. 


T 


T 


HE  time  has  come  to  shut  the  gate. 

Make  way,"  he  cried,  and  then  began 
To  sweep  and  set  the  litter  straight, 
And  pile  the  saddle-bags  and  freight 
Of  some  belated  caravan. 

HE  drivers  whirled  their  beasts  about, 

And  beat  them  on  with  shoutings  great; 
The  nosebags  slipped,  the  feed  flew  out, 
The  water-buckets  reeled,  the  rout 
Went  jostling  onward  to  the  gate. 


/^AME  one  unto  the  master  then, 

^^     Hasting  to  find  him  through  the  gloom, 
"  Give  us  a  place  to  rest;  "  and  when 
He  spake,  the  master  cried  again, 

"  There  is  no  room  —  there  is  no  room." 

[155] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


LEGEND  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY  (contd.) 


a 


P>UT  I  have  come  from  Nazareth, 

Full  three   days'   toil   to   Bethlehem" — 
"  What  matters  that,"  the  master  saith, 
"  For  here  is  hardly  room  for  breath ; 
The  guests  curse  me  for  crowding  them." 


"TTOLD,  Sir!  leave  me  not  so,  I  pray" — 
■■■  -*•     He  plucked  him  sudden  by  the  sleeve, 
*'  My  wife  is  with  me  and  doth  say. 
Her  hour  hath  come,  I  beg  you,  stay. 
And  make  some  plan  for  her  relief." 

"^nr^WO  hours  ago  you  might  have  had 

The  chamber  wherein  stands  the  loom; 
But  then  to  drive  me  wholly  mad. 
Came  this  great  merchant  from  Baghdad, 
And  thrust  himself  into  the  room. 


4  4^ 


HERE  is  no  other  shelf  to  call 

A  bed  —  But  just  beyond  the  gate. 
You  may  find  shelter  in  a  stall. 
If  there  be  shelter  left  at  all, 
You  may  be  even  now  too  late." 
[156] 


A     LEGEND     OF     CHRIST'S     NATIVITY 


LEGEND  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY  (contd.) 

"DEYOND  the  gate  within  the  night, 
^     A  figure  rested  on  the  ground, 
About  her  all  the  rout  took  flight. 
The  dizzy  noise,  the  flashing  light. 
The  mules  were  tramping  all  around. 


L 


EANING  in  mute  expectancy. 
Beneath  a  stunted  sycamore, 
She  added  darkness  utterly. 
To  the  dim  light,  the  shrouded  tree. 
By  her  hands  held  her  face  before. 


A  ND  yet  to  mock  her  eye's  desire, 
'^^     The  cavern  into  which  she  stared, 
Was  lit  with  disks  and  lines  of  fire ; 
When  triple  darkness  did  conspire. 
The  secret  founts  of  light  were  bared. 


A 


ND  all  the  wheeling  fire  was  rife 

With  haunting  fears,  her  broken  breath 

Grew  short  with  this  prophetic  strife; 

What  was  for  one  the  dawn  of  life. 
Would  be  for  one  the  dawn  of  death. 

[157] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


LEGEND  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY  (contd.) 

ly/f  EANTIME  the  stranger  with  a  lamp, 

Which  lit  the  darkness,  small  and  wan, 
Searched  where  the  mules  did  tramp  and 

stamp, 
Amid  the  litter  and  the  damp, 

For  some  small  place  to  rest  upon. 


A 


ND  there  against  the  furthest  wall. 

Where   the   black   shade   was  dense  and 
deep, 
He  found  a  mean  and  meager  stall. 
But  there  when  the  weak  light  did  fall, 
He  found  a  little  lad  asleep. 


H 


(4 


E  lifted  up  his  childish  head. 
And  smiled  serenely  at  the  light. 
And  have  you  found  him,  then,"  he  said, 
My  brother  who  I  thought  was  dead, 
I  lost  him  in  the  crowd  last  night. 


T  TIS  name  is  Ezra,  and  he  is 

So  tall  and  strong  that  when  I  try, 
Standing  on  tiptoe  for  a  kiss 

[158] 


A     LEGEND     OF     CHRIST'S     NATIVITY 


LEGEND  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY  (contd.) 

I  could  not  reach,  except  for  this, 
He  lifts  me  up  so  easily. 


''T  HAD  two  little  doves  to  take 

Up  to  the  booths  " —  he  held  his  breath, 
"  Peace,  child !  and  for  your  mother's  sake, 
Yield  me  this  place  —  nay,  nay !  awake ! 
My  weary  wife  is  sick  to  death." 


^'T  WILL,"  the  little  lad  replied 
"  I  promised  never  to  forget 
My  mother,  years  ago  she  died, 
I  will  lie  out  on  the  hillside, 

And  I  may  find  dear  Ezra  yet." 


A  ND  now  she  drooped  her  weary  head. 
Within  that  comfortless  manger, 
It  might  have  been  a  palace  bed. 
With  canopy  of  gold  instead. 
So  little  did  she  know  or  care. 

[159] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


LEGEND  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY  (contd.) 

Gentle  Jesus,  slumber  mild, 

Lullaby,  lullaby; 
Succored  by  a  little  child. 

Lull,  lullaby. 

You  of  children  are  the  king, 

Lullaby,  lullaby; 
Sovereign  to  all  ministering. 

Lull,  lullaby. 

Grace  you  bring  them  from  above. 

Lullaby,  lullaby; 
They  give  promise,  lisping  love. 

Lull,  lullaby. 

ND  out  upon  the  darkened  hill, 

With  all  the  quiet-pastured  sheep, 
Charmed  by  the  falling  of  a  rill, 
Where  in  the  pool  it  cadenced  still, 
The  little  lad  was  fallen  asleep. 

LL    his    young    dreams    were    robed    with 
power. 
And  glad  were  all  his  vision  folk; 
He  wandered  on  from  hour  to  hour. 
With  Ezra,  happy  as  a  flower 

That  blooms  safe-shadowed  by  the  oak. 
[i6o] 


A 


A 


A     LEGEND     OF     CHRIST'S     NATIVITY 


LEGEND  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY  (contd.) 


B 


UT  once  before  his  dreams  were  told, 
He  thought  he  saw  within  the  deep 
Vault  of  the  sky  a  rose  unfold, 
Made  all  of  fire  and  lovely  gold, 

Whose  petals  seemed  to  glow  and  leap, 


A 


S  if  each  dewy,  crystal  cell 

Were  a  great  angel  live  with  light, 
And  trembling  to  the  coronal. 
Merging  in  sheen  of  pearl  and  shell. 

With  his  great  comrade,  equal,  bright. 


T  TNTIL  the  petals  flashed  and  sprang, 
^      And  folded  to  the  central  heart: 

Music  there  was  that  showered  and  rang. 
As  if  each  angel  harped  and  sang. 
Controlled  by  some  celestial  art. 


T 


HE  child  saw  splendor  without  name. 

And  turned  and  smiled,  and  all  the  noise 
Of  strings  and  singing  sank;  it  came 
Faint  and  dream-altered,  yet  the  same, 
Soft-tempered  to  his  mother's  voice. 
[i6i] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


LEGEND  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY  (contd.) 

Slumber,  slumber,  gentle  child. 

Lullaby,  lullaby; 
Sweet  as  henna,  dear  and  mild, 

Lull,  lullaby. 

You  the  first  of  all  the  race. 

Lullaby,  lullaby; 
Gave  your  master  early  grace. 

Lull,  lullaby. 

Gave  a  shelter  for  his  head. 

Lullaby,  lullaby; 
Took  the  chilly  earth  instead. 

Lull,  lullaby. 

Now  take  comfort  infant  earth. 

Lullaby,  lullaby; 
Jesus  Christ  is  come  to  birth. 

Lull,  lullaby. 

For  his  principality. 

Lullaby,  lullaby; 
Children  cluster  at  his  knee. 

Lull,  lullaby. 

Hail  the  heaven-happy  age, 

Lullaby,  lullaby; 
Love  begins  his  pilgrimage. 

Lull,  lullaby. 


[162] 


WILLOW-PIPES 


WILLOW-PIPES 

jJO  in  the  shadow  by  the  nimble  flood 

He  made  her  whistles  of  the  willow  wood, 
Flutes  of  one  note  with  mellow  slender  tone; 
(A  robin  piping  in  the  dusk  alone). 
Lively  the  pleasure  was  the  wand  to  bruise, 
And  notch  the  light  rod  for  its  lyric  use, 
Until  the  stem  gave  up  its  tender  sheath, 
And  showed  the  white  and  glistening  wood 

beneath. 
And    when    the    ground    was    covered    with 

light  chips, 
Grey  leaves  and  green,  and  twigs  and  tender 

slips. 
They  placed  the  well-made  whistles  in  a  row 
And  left  them  for  the  careless  wind  to  blow. 


[163] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


ANGEL 

A^OME  to  me  when  grief  is  over, 
^-^     When  the  tired  eyes, 

Seek  thy  cloudy  wings  to  cover 
Close  their  burning  skies. 


/'^OME  to  me  when  tears  have  dwindled 
^-^     Into  drops  of  dew, 

When  the  sighs  like  sobs  re-kindled 
Are  but  deep  and  few. 


H 


OLD  me  like  a  crooning  mother, 

Heal  me  of  the  smart; 
All  mine  anguish  let  me  smother 

In  thy  brooding  heart. 


[164] 


CHRISTMAS     FOLK-SONG 


T 


T 


CHRISTMAS  FOLK-SONG 

HOSE  who  die  on  Christmas  Day 

(I  heard  the  triumphant  Seraph  say) 
Will  be  remembered,  for  they  died 
Upon  the  Holy  Christmastide ; 
When  they  attain  to  Paradise, 
The  Angels  with  the  tranquil  Eyes 
Will  ask  if  Jesus  rules  on  Earth 
The  Anniversary  of  His  Birth; 
This  Question  do  they  ask  alway 
Of  those  who  die  on  Christmas  Day. 

HOSE  who  are  bom  on  Christmas  Day 

(I  heard  the  triumphant  Seraph  say) 
Will  bring  again  the  Peace  on  Earth 
That  came  with  gentle  Christ  His  Birth; 
They  may  be  lowly  Folk  and  poor 
Living  about  the  Manger  Door, 
They  may  be  Kings  of  Mighty  Line, 
Their  Lives  alike  will  be  benign; 
To  them  belongeth  Peace  alway, 
Those  who  are  born  on  Christmas  Day. 

[165] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


FROM  BEYOND 

T  TERE  there  is  balm  for  every  tender  heart 
*'■  ■'■     Wounded  by  life ; 

Rest  for  each  one  who  bore  a  valiant  part 
Crushed  in  the  strife. 


I  SUFFERED  there  and  held  a  losing  fight 
Even  to  the  grave ; 
And  now  I  know  that  it  was  very  right 
To  suffer  and  be  brave. 


[166] 


THE     LEAF 


T 


B 


THE  LEAF 

HIS   silver-edged   geranium   leaf 
Is  one  sign  of  a  bitter  grief 
Whose  symbols  are  a  myriad  more; 
They  cluster  round  a  carven  stone 
Where  she  who  sleeps  is  never  alone 
For  two  hearts  at  the  core, 


OUND  with  her  heart  make  one  of  three, 

A  trinity  in  unity, 
One  sentient  heart  that  grieves; 
And  myriad  dark-leaved  memories  keep 
Vigil  above  the  triune  sleep, — 
Edged  all  with  silver  are  the  leaves. 


[167] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


A  MYSTERY  PLAY 

CHARACTERS 

The  Father.         The  Child.         Death.         Angels. 
Two  Travellers. 

'p*  9^  «^  ^% 

rriHE  even  settles  still  and  deep, 

J.         In  the  cold  sky  the  last  gold  burns, 

Across  the  colour  snow/lakes  creep. 

Each  one  from  grey  to  glory  turns 

Then  Butters  into  nothingness; 

The  frost  down  falls  with  mighty  stress 

Through  the  swift  cloud  that  parts  on  high; 

The  great  stars  shrivel  into  less 

In  the  hard  depth  of  the  iron  sky. 

**!<>  *i*  «1*  »t» 

0fi  *t^  '•*  *i* 


The  Child: 

What  is  that  light,  dear  father, 
That  light  in  the  dark,  dark  sky? 

The  Father: 

Those  are  the  lights  of  the  city 
And  the  villages  thereby. 

[  i68  ] 


A     MYSTERY     PLAY 


A  MYSTERY  PLAY  (continued) 

The  Child: 

There  must  be  fire  in  the  city 

To  throw  that  yellow  glare; 
And  fire  in  the  little  villages 

On  all  the  hearthstones  there. 

The  Father,  musing: 

Yea,  flames  are  on  the  hearthstones; 

The  ovens  are  full  of  bread, 
But  here  the  coals  are  dying 

And  the  flames  are  dead. 

The  Child: 

What  is  the  cold,  dear  father? 

It  stings  like  an  angry  bee. 
Wherever  it  stings  my  hand  turns  white. 

See! 

The  Father: 

The  cold  is  a  beast,  my  dear  one. 

With  his  paws  he  tears  at  the  thatch, 

His  breath  is  a  curse  and  a  warning. 
You  can  see  it  creep  on  the  latch. 

[169] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


A  MYSTERY  PLAY  (continued) 

The  Child: 

If  'tis  a  wolf,  dear  father, 

That  lies  with  his  paw  on  the  floor, 
Let  us  heat  the  spade  in  the  embers 

And  drive  him  away  from  the  door. 

Angels: 

God  is  the  power  of  growth. 
In  the  snail  and  the  tree, 
God  is  the  power  of  growth 
In  the  heart  of  the  man. 

The  Child: 

Did  you  not  hear  the  singing. 

Voices  overhead? 
Mother's  voice  and  Ruth's  voice. 

Voices  of  the  dead. 

The  Father,  musing: 

Our  Ruth  died  in  the  springtime, 
With  the  spade  I  turned  the  sod. 

We  buried  her  by  the  brier  rose. 
Her  life  is  hid  with  God. 

[170] 


A     MYSTERY     PLAY 


A  MYSTERY  PLAY  (continued) 

The  Child: 

All  summer  long  in  the  garden 

No  roses  came  to  the  tree. 
Father,  was  it  for  sorrow, 

Sorrow  for  thee  and  me? 

The  Father: 

Roses  grew  in  the  garden, 

I  saw  them  at  morning  and  even, 

Shadows  of  earthly  roses 

They  bloomed  for  fingers  in  heaven. 

•»■  *¥*  ^*  ^* 

The  air  is  very  clear  and  still. 

The  moonlight  falls  from  half  the  sphere; 

The  shadow  from  the  silver  hill 

Fills  half  the  vale,  and  half  is  clear 

As  the  moon's  self  with  cloudless  snow; 

By  the  dead  stream  the  alders  throw 

Their  shadows,  shot  with  tingling  spars; 

On  the  sheer  height  the  elm  trees  glow: 

Their  tops  are  tangled  with  the  stars. 

?n  «|fe  V^  *^  tf|k 


[171] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


A  MYSTERY  PLAY  (continued) 

The  Child: 

Father,  the  coals  are  dying, 
See !     I  have  heated  the  spade, 

Let  me  throw  the  door  wide  open, 
I  will  not  be  afraid. 

The  Father: 

Let  me  kiss  you  once  on  the  forehead. 
And  once  on  your  darling  eyes ; 

We  may  see  them  both  at  the  dawning, 
In  the  dales  of  Paradise. 

The  Child: 

And  if  I  only  see  them, 

I  will  tell  them  how  you  smiled ; 
For  the  wolf,  you  know,  is  angry, 

And  I  am  a  little  child. 

Death: 
Undaunted  spirits, 
I  give  thee  peace, 
For  a  world  of  dread  — 
Calm. 

[172] 


A     MYSTERY     PLAY 


A  MYSTERY  PLAY  (continued) 

For  desperate  toil  — 

Rest. 

Thou  who  didst  say, 

When  the  waters  of  poverty 

Waxed  deep,  deep. 

What  we  bear  is  best; 

Just  ones, 

I  give  thee  sleep. 

First  Traveller: 

Keep  up  your  spirits,  I  know 
There's  a  cabin  under  the  hill. 
The  fellow  will  make  a  roaring  fire ; 
We'll  heat  our  hands  and  drink  our  fill 
And  go  warm  to  our  heart's  desire ! 

Second  Traveller: 

The  door  is  open, —  Heigho ! 

This  pair  will  claim  neither  crown  nor  groat, 

The  man  has  gripped  his  garden  spade 

As  if  he  would  dig  his  grave  in  the  snow ; 

The  boy  has  the  face  of  a  saint,  I  trow; 

His  brow  says,  "  I  was  not  afraid !  " 

[173] 


THE     CLOSED     DOOR 


A  MYSTERY  PLAY  (continued) 

First  Traveller: 

Ah  well,  these  things  must  be,  you  know! 
Gather  your  sables  around  your  throat; 
Give  us  that  story  about  the  monk, 
His  niece,  and  the  wandering  conjurer, 
Just  to  keep  our  blood  astir. 

The  Angels: 

The  heart  of  God, 

The  worlds  and  man. 

Are  fashioned  and  moulded. 

In  a  subtle  plan; 

Passion  outsurges, 

Sweeps  far  but  converges; 

Nothing  is  lost, 

Sod  or  stone, 

But  comes  to  its  own; 

Bear  well  thy  joy, 

'Tis  mixed  with  alloy, 

Bear  well  thy  grief, 

'Tis  a  rich  full  sheaf : 


[174] 


A     MYSTERY     PLAY 


A  MYSTERY  PLAY  (continued) 

Gather  the  souls  that  have  passed  in  the  night, 
Theirs  is  the  peace  and  the  light. 

■p^  ^{^  #1^  #j^  sj^ 


The  moon  is  gone,  the  dawning  brings 
A  deeper  dark  with  silver  blent, 
Above  the  wells  where,  myriad,  springs 
Light  from  the  crimson  orient; 
The  elms  are  born,  the  shadows  creep, 
Tremble  and  melt  away —  one  sweep 
The  great  soft  color  Hoods  and  Hows, 
Where  under  snow  the  roses  sleep; 
The  morn  has  turned  the  snow  to  rose. 


[175] 


LINES  IN  MEMORY  OF 
EDMUND  MORRIS 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 


D 


LINES  IN  MEMORY  OF 
EDMUND  MORRIS 

EAR  MORRIS— here  is  your  letter- 
Can  my  answer  reach  you  now? 
Fate  has  left  me  your  debtor, 
You  will  remember  how; 
For  I  went  away  to  Nantucket, 
And  you  to  the  Isle  of  Orleans, 
And  when  I  was  dawdling  and  dreaming 
Over  the  ways  and  means 
Of  answering,  the  power  was  denied  me, 
Fate  frowned  and  took  her  stand; 
I  have  your  unanswered  letter 
Here  in  my  hand. 
This — in  your  famous  scribble, 
It  was  ever  a  cryptic  fist, 
Cuneiform  or  Qhaldaic 
Meanings  held  in  a  mist. 


[179] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 


MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 


D 


EAR  MORRIS,  (now  I'm  inditing 

And  poring  over  your  script) 
I  gather  from  the  writing, 
The  coin  that  you  had  flipt. 
Turned  tails;  and  so  you  compel  me 
To  meet  you  at  Touchwood  Hills: 
Or,  mayhap,  you  are  trying  to  tell  me 
The  sum  of  a  painter's  ills: 
Is  that  Phimister  Proctor 
Or  something  about  a  doctor? 
Well,  nobody  knows,  but  Eddie, 
Whatever  it  is  I'm  ready. 


^OR  our  friendship  was  always  fortunate 

In  its  greetings  and  adieux, 
Nothing  flat  or  importunate, 
Nothing  of  the  misuse 
That  comes  of  the  constant  grinding 
Of  one  mind  on  another. 
So  memory  has  nothing  to  smother, 
But  only  a  few  things  captured 
On  the  wing,  as  it  were,  and  enraptured. 

[i8o] 


I 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 

MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

Yes,  Morris,  I  am  inditing — 
Answering  at  last  it  seems, 
How  can  you  read  the  writing 
In  the  vacancy  of  dreams? 

WOULD  have  you  look  over  my  shoulder 
Ere  the  long,  dark  year  is  colder,  , 

And  mark  that  as  memory  grows  older, 
The  brighter  it  pulses  and  gleams. 
And  if  I  should  try  to  render 
The  tissues  of  fugitive  splendour 
That  fled  down  the  wind  of  living. 
Will  they  read  it  some  day  in  the  future, 
And  be  conscious  of  an  awareness 
In  our  old  lives,  and  the  bareness 
Of  theirs,  with  the  newest  passions 
In  the  last  fad  of  the  fashions? 


H 


*2*  •(*  "J*  •!• 

OW  often  have  we  risen  without  daylight 
When  the  day  star  was  hidden  in  mist, 
When  the  dragon-fly  was  heavy  with  dew 
and  sleep, 

[i8i] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 

MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

And  viewed  the  miracle  pre-eminent,  match- 
less, 

The  prelusive  light  that  quickens  the 
morning. 

O  crystal  dawn,  how  shall  we  distill  your  vir- 
ginal freshness 

When  you  steal  upon  a  land  that  man  has 
not  sullied  with  his  intrusion. 

When  the  aboriginal  shy  dwellers  in  the 
broad  solitudes 

Are  asleep  in  their  innumerable  dens  and 
night  haunts 

Amid  the  dry  ferns,  in  the  tender  nests 

Pressed  into  shape  by  the  breasts  of  the 
Mother  birds? 

How  shall  we  simulate  the  thrill  of  an- 
nouncement 

When  lake  after  lake  lingering  in  the  star- 
light 

Turn  their  faces  towards  you. 

And  are  caressed  with  the  salutation  of 
colour? 

[182] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 

MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

T  TOW  shall  we  transmit  in  tendril-like  images, 
The    tenuous    tremor   in   the    tissues    of 
ether, 
Before  the  round  of  colour  buds  like  the 

dome  of  a  shrine, 
The  preconscious  moment  when  love  has 

fluttered  in  the  bosom. 
Before  it  begins  to  ache? 


T  TOW  often  have  we  seen  the  even 
-*■  -■•     Melt  into  the  liquidity  of  twilight. 
With  passages  of  Titian  splendour. 
Pellucid  preludes,  exquisitely  tender. 
Where  vanish  and  revive,  thro'  veils  of  the 

ashes  of  roses, 
The  crystal  forms  the  breathless  sky  dis- 
closes. 


'TpHE  new  moon  a  slender  thing. 
In  a  snood  of  virgin  light. 
She  seemed  all  shy  on  venturing 
Into  the  vast  night. 

[183] 


IN    MEMORY    OF    EDMUND    MORRIS 


MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 


H 


I 


ER  own  land  and  folk  were  afar, 

She  must  have  gone  astray, 
But  the  gods  had  given  a  silver  star. 
To  be  with  her  on  the  way. 

*»!»  uS^  mSm  ml* 

"t*  "^  ^P  *T^ 


CAN  feel  the  wind  on  the  prairie 
And  see  the  bunch-grass  wave, 
And  the  sunlights  ripple  and  vary 
The  hill  with  Crowfoot's  grave. 
Where  he  "  pitched  off  "  for  the  last  time 
In  sight  of  the  Blackfoot  Crossing, 
Where  in  the  sun  for  a  pastime 
You  marked  the  site  of  his  tepee 
With  a  circle  of  stones.     Old  Napiw 
Gave  you  credit  for  that  day. 
And  well  I  recall  the  weirdness 
Of  that  evening  at  Qu'Appelle, 
In  the  wigwam  with  old  Sakimay, 
The  keen,  acrid  smell, 
As  the  kinnikinick  was  burning; 
The  planets  outside  were  turning, 

[  184  ] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 

MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

And  the  little  splints  of  poplar 

Flared  with  a  thin,  gold  flame. 

He  showed  us  his  painted  robe 

Where  in  primitive  pigments 

He  had  drawn  his  feats  and  his  forays, 

And  told  us  the  legend 

Of  the  man  without  a  name, 

The  hated  Blackfoot, 

How  he  lured  the  warriors. 

The  young  men,  to  the  foray 

And  they  never  returned. 

Only  their  ghosts 

Goaded  by  the  Blackfoot 

Mounted  on  stallions: 

In  the  night  time 

He  drove  the  stallions 

Reeking  into  the  camp; 

The  women  gasped  and  whispered, 

The  children  cowered  and  crept. 

And  the  old  men  shuddered 

Where  they  slept. 

When  Sakimay  looked  forth 

He  saw  the  Blackfoot, 

[185] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 


MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 


And  the  ghosts  of  the  warriors, 
And  the  black  stallions 
Covered  by  the  night  wind 
As  by  a  mantle. 


I 


tf^  *j»  #]!•  *{•  tf|^ 

REMEMBER  well  a  day, 
When  the  sunlight  had  free  play. 
When  you  worked  in  happy  stress, 
While  grave  Ne-Pah-Pee-Ness 
Sat  for  his  portrait  there, 
In  his  beaded  coat  and  his  bare 
Head,  with  his  mottled  fan 
Of  hawk's  feathers,  A  Man ! 
Ah  Morris,  those  were  the  times 
When  you  sang  your  inconsequent  rhymes 
Sprung  from  a  careless  fountain: 

"  He  met  her  on  the  mountain, 

"  He  gave  her  a  horn  to  blow, 

"And  the  very  last  words  he  said  to  her 

"  Were,  '  Go  'long,  Eliza,  go.' " 

[i86] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 


MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

Foolish,  —  but  life  was  all, 

And  under  the  skilful  fingers 

Contours  came  at  your  call  — 

Art  grows  and  time  lingers ;  — 

But  now  the  song  has  a  change 

Into  something  wistful  and  strange. 

And  one  asks  with  a  touch  of  ruth 

What  became  of  the  youth 

And  where  did  Eliza  go? 

He  met  her  on  the  mountain, 

He  gave  her  a  horn  to  blow, 

The  horn  was  a  silver  whorl 

With  a  mouthpiece  of  pure  pearl. 

And  the  mountain  was  all  one  glow. 

With  gulfs  of  blue  and  summits  of  rosy  snow. 

The  cadence  she  blew  on  the  silver  horn 

Was  the  meaning  of  life  in  one  phrase  caught, 

And  as  soon  as  the  magic  notes  were  born, 

She  repeated  them  once  in  an  afterthought. 

They  heard  in  the  crystal  passes, 

The  cadence,  calling,  calling, 

And  faint  in  the  deep  crevasses, 

The  echoes  falling,  falling. 

[187] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 

MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

They  stood  apart  and  wondered; 
Her  lips  with  a  wound  were  aquiver, 
His  heart  with  a  sword  was  sundered, 
For  life  was  changed  forever 
When  he  gave  her  the  horn  to  blow: 
But  a  shadow  arose  from  the  valley, 
Desolate,  slow  and  tender, 
It  hid  the  herdsmen's  chalet, 
Where  it  hung  in  the  emerald  meadow, 
(Was  death  driving  the  shadow?) 
It  quenched  the  tranquil  splendour 
Of  the  colour  of  life  on  the  glow-peaks, 
Till  at  the  end  of  the  even, 
The  last  shell-tint  on  the  snow-peaks 
Had  passed  away  from  the  heaven. 
And  yet,  when  it  passed,  victorious, 
The  stars  came  out  on  the  mountains, 
And  the  torrents  gusty  and  glorious. 
Clamoured  in  a  thousand  fountains. 
And  even  far  down  in  the  valley, 
A  light  re-discovered  the  chalet. 
The  scene  that  was  veiled  had  a  meaning, 
So  deep  that  none  might  know; 

[i88] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 

MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

Was  it  here  in  the  mom  on  the  mountain, 
That  he  gave  her  the  horn  to  blow? 

^  :i:  ^  ^  * 

nr^EARS  are  the  crushed  essence  of  this  world, 
The  wine  of  life,  and  he  who  treads  the 

press 
Is  lofty  with  imperious  disregard 
Of  the  burst  grapes,  the  red  tears  and  the 

murk. 
But  nay !  that  is  a  thought  of  the  old  poets, 
Who  sullied  life  with  the  passional  bitterness 
Of  their  world-weary  hearts.     We  of  the 

sunrise. 
Joined  in  the  breast  of  God,  feel  deep  the 

power 
That  urges  all  things  onward,  not  to  an  end. 
But    in    an    endless    flow,    mounting    and 

mounting. 
Claiming  not  overmuch  for  human  life, 
Sharing  with  our  brothers  of  nerve  and  leaf 
The  urgence  of  the  one  creative  breath, — 
All  in  the  dim  twilight  —  say  of  morning, 

[189] 


IN     MEMORY     OF     EDMUND     MORRIS 

MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

Where  the  florescence  of  the  light  and  dew- 
Haloes  and  hallows  with  a  crown  adorning 
The  brows  of  life  with  love ;  herein  the  clue, 
The  love  of  life  —  yea,  and  the  peerless  love 
Of  things  not  seen,  that  leads  the  least  of 

things 
To  cherish  the  green  sprout,  the  hardening 

seed; 
Here  leans  all  nature  with  vast  Mother-love, 
Above  the  cradled  future  with  a  smile. 
Why  are  there  tears  for  failure,  or  sighs  for 

weakness. 
While  life's  rh3rthm  beats  on?     Where  is  the 

rule 
To  measure  the  distance  we  have  circled 

and  clomb? 
Catch  up  the  sands  of  the  sea  and  count 

and  count 
The  failures  hidden  in  our  sum  of  conquest. 
Persistence  is  the  master  of  this  life; 
The  master  of  these  little  lives  of  ours ; 
To  the  end  —  effort  —  even  beyond  the  end. 

*4*  •!•  *S*  •!• 

^*  *S*  ^f*  *t* 

[190] 


IN     MEMORY     OF     EDMUND     MORRIS 


MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

T  TERE.  Morris,  on  the  plains  that  we  have 
"*•  -■■  loved, 

Think  of  the  death  of  Akoose,  fleet  of  foot. 
Who,  in  his  prime,  a  herd  of  antelope 
From  sunrise,  without  rest,  a  hundred  miles 
Drove  through  rank  prairie,  loping  like  a 

wolf. 
Tired  them  and  slew  them,  ere  the  sun  went 

down. 
Akoose,  in  his  old  age,  blind  from  the  smoke 
Of  tepees  and  the  sharp  snow  light,  alone 
With  his  great  grandchildren,  withered  and 

spent, 
Crept  in  the  warm  sun  along  a  rope 
Stretched    for   his    guidance.     Once    when 

sharp  autumn 
Made    membranes    of   thin    ice    upon   the 

sloughs. 
He  caught  a  pony  on  a  quick  return 
Of  prowess  and,   all  his  instincts  cleared 

and  quickened. 
He  mounted,   sensed  the  north  and  bore 

away 

[191] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 

MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

To  the  Last  Mountain  Lake  where  in  his 

youth 
He  shot  the  sand-hill-cranes  with  his  flint 

arrows. 
And  for  these  hours  in  all  the  varied  pomp 
Of  pagan  fancy  and  free  dreams  of  foray 
And   crude   adventure,   he   ranged   on   en- 
tranced, 
Until  the  sun  blazed  level  with  the  prairie. 
Then  paused,  faltered  and  slid  from  off  his 

pony. 
In    a    little    bluff    of    poplars,    hid    in    the 

bracken, 
He  lay  down ;  the  populace  of  leaves 
In  the  lithe  poplars  whispered  together  and 

trembled. 
Fluttered  before  a  sunset  of  gold  smoke. 
With  interspaces,  green  as  sea  water, 
And  calm  as  the  deep  water  of  the  sea. 

''  I  ^HERE  Akoose  lay,  silent  amid  the  bracken, 
Gathered  at  last  with  the  Algonquin  Chief- 
tains. 

[192] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 


MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

Then  the  tenebrous  sunset  was  blown  out, 
And  all  the  smoky  gold  turned  into  cloud 

wrack. 
Akoose  slept  forever  amid  the  poplars, 
Swathed  by  the  wind  from  the  far-off  Red 

Deer 
Where   dinosaurs   sleep,   clamped   in   their 

rocky  tombs. 
Who  shall  count  the  time  that  lies  between 
The  sleep  of  Akoose  and  the  dinosaurs? 
Innumerable  time,  that  yet  is  like  the  breath 
Of  the  long  wind  that  creeps  upon  the  prairie 
And  dies  away  with  the  shadows  at  sundown. 

***** 

"IT  rHAT  we  may  think,  who  brood  upon  the 
^ '  theme. 

Is,  when  the  old  world,  tired  of  spinning, 

has  fallen 
Asleep,  and  all  the  forms,  that  carried  the 

fire 
Of  life,  are  cold  upon  her  marble  heart  — 

[  193] 


IN  MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS 

MEMORY  OF  EDMUND  MORRIS  (contd.) 

Like  ashes  on  the  altar  —  just  as  she  stops, 
That    something   will    escape    of   soul    or 

essence, — 
The  sum  of  life,  to  kindle  otherwhere: 
Just  as  the  fruit  of  a  high  sunny  garden, 
Grown  mellow  with  autumnal  sun  and  rain. 
Shrivelled  with  ripeness,  splits  to  the  rich 

heart. 
And  looses  a  gold  kernel  to  the  mould, 
So  the  old  world,  hanging  long  in  the  sun. 
And  deep  enriched  with  effort  and  with 

love, 
Shall,  in  the  motions  of  maturity. 
Wither  and  part,  and  the  kernel  of  it  all 
Escape,  a  lovely  wraith  of  spirit,  to  lati- 
tudes 
Where  the  appearance,  throated  like  a  bird. 
Winged    with    fire    and    bodied    all    with 

passion. 
Shall  flame  with  presage,  not  of  tears,  but 

joy- 

THE   END 
[194] 


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